Never Forgotten, Never Forgiven
by longliveelphie
Summary: Jack and Mattie Driskall arrive on Fleet Street 40 years after Sweeney and Mrs. Lovett. Unfortunately, neither the past nor those who lived in it stay hidden for long.
1. The Cozy Retreat

The cobblestones of Fleet Street usually are silent as the grave, with only the sounds of scuttling rats and the occasional beggar that passed by once a day

The cobblestones of Fleet Street usually are silent as the grave, with only the sounds of scuttling rats and the occasional beggar that passed by once a day. Normally, the air is thin with the cold, yet damp with the hovering rain. To the usual observer, today seemed to be a day in which good had a victory over evil. Today, the clouds have thinned, leaving a dull cast of a pale sun through the overhead fog. The air was warm to the touch, and dry to the hands; a day where the strange and lonely peeked their heads out to observe the brief departure of the malicious spirits that encased the street. Their presence seemed to be lifted by a pair of young, fledgling Englishmen. The veteran residence would look upon them as foolish, stupid children for sauntering in their clean, nice clothing, where such outlooks would make them easy prey for the muggers and thieves. But they seemed to pay no attention to the grime-covered walls or the dirty puddles that lined the street in tiny potholes. Their attitude seemed to reflect the sky; they had a ray of sunshine about them, but knew that this neighborhood was neither safe nor clean. There was nothing overt about their uneasiness, but you could sense that they were watching their backs while wearing masks of confidence.brbr

One of this foolish two was Jack Driskall. He was dragging a large trunk that looked well-loved, but not completely ruined. He wore an old brown suit with a freshly-cleaned white shirt that gave the impression of the middle-class. Neat, shiny chestnut waves skimmed his head, while his deep brown eyes had a look of simplicity and curiosity. The little, light woman standing next to him was also lugging a similar, beaten-down trunk. She wore a long dress which danced between the colors of green and blue, making her glowing skin pop out next to Jacks, which was as pale as the glimmering sun above them. A messy array of sleek, auburn hair slimmed across her neck and down her back, pulled off of her face with a small, nave ribbon. The whole picture gave her the impression of a fluttering hummingbird. Her name was Mattie Crawford, and she was to be Mrs. Driskall the very next day.brBr

The echoes of their hard, leather shoes reverberated against the deserted street, as they went searching for their new house. Mr. Driskall was given permission to buy a house for him and his fianc from his father, who gave them only the simplest request: buy the cheapest house in England that you could find. With a smile on his face and song in his heart, he set off to find an affordable home for him and Mattie. For many moons he searched for a descent house for them, but was unsuccessful. Unfortunately, with the arrival of all the new immigrants that came pouring into London in the last fifty years, housing prices shot up, as the richer grew richer, and the poorer grew poorer. Mr. Driskall and his family was one of the few surviving middle-class families left in all of England, and times were beginning to become hard. For a hard hit man such as Mr. Driskall, the only affordable residence was on a street called Fleet Street, which was just past the River Thames. Mr. Driskall knew of the many rumors that enveloped this supposedly cursed stretch of stone and brick, but as times are desperate, desperate measures were called for.brbr

A jubilant Mr. Driskall and a collected Ms. Crawford were slowly beginning to descend upon their destination of this God forsaken vicinity in the speck upon the turmoiled city of Darkness. Their slight air of confidence seemed to be a bright beacon against this solemn and morbid city, where parsimony was moral and greed was the currency. Ms. Driskall shifted uneasily as they saw the building. The corner of Fleet Street and Templar Avenue seemed duller than the mud that caked the road. Its presence seemed misplaced, yet befitting to its surroundings, which were equally as depressing and ghastly. Never before had Ms. Crawford come across a fort of wood and nails such as the old pie and barber shop, such a pile of wreckage as one couldnt describe without laying their disbelieving eyes upon his horrific planks.brbr

"Jack, are you sure that this is the right place, or perhaps its further down north", she stated, praying to God that this was not to be their new place of occupation. Unfortunately, she could see no other building with a "For Sale" sign as far as her eyes permitted her. The faded sign that stood nailed in front of the house was as graphitized almost as much as the establishment, with curses written by God-fearing passerby.

brbr

"Unfortunately, love, this is it", said Mr. Driskall, his fake confidence fading from his face, showing disappointment.brbr

"I dont know why you made me wear my nicest day dress. We could be mugged for wearing such nice things", she said, peeking over her shoulder, searching cautiously for any strange characters.brbr

"Because, darling, these garments will intimidate muggers, make them think we are people of power who can do away with them", he said with a faint smile. Mattie almost laughed. The trait she hated most about her fianc was his tendency to be incredibly nave, always thinking that he to be clever, when really; he had foolishness flowing from his lips like water dripping from a faucet. "Besides, you know that we are paying for it with our own savings, which are very minimal. But with my occupation, well live a prosperous life together! This place has wonderful space, and from what Ive heard, one of the largest basements in all of London! Wont it be marvelous, darling? Just you and be, by the Thames in this cozy flat? Oh, what wonderful memories well create my love", and with that, he gave her a kiss, which she acquiesced to.brbr

Mattie Crawford was a fiercely independent woman. She resented the idea of being married off to this imprudent man, with only a diploma in his hand, instead of choosing a man who was equally as independent as she. Instead, she ended up with a man who needed a woman just to be happy, to create happy memories with.brbr

"Of course, my love. Of course." With that, she didnt speak another word until they reached the front door. The door handle was of ordinary bronze, without any engravings or sketches etched onto it, marking this place of ordinary or lower income. Turing the handle, Jack pushed aside the creaking door, with a sound so loud and hoarse that it seemed to almost sound like dry gargling. The inside of the room looked like an old restaurant, one that had eventually fallen into disrepair. An inch of dust blanketed the countertops, as well as numerous cobwebs that dusted every corner in sight. The old oven behind the kitchen was rusting, but still looked usable. What was immediately noticeable was that the inside of the room was far colder that the comfort of the outside London air. There seemed to be an absent sentiment that puffed through the room, coming in sweeps through their breaths. At the same time, however, Mattie couldnt overcome the sensation of being watched, as though the ceiling seemed to want to greet them. Mattie immediately disliked the place.brbr

"Well, it could use some repair, but I think itll turn out nice, dont you think?" said Jack in a frisk manner. He knew he was losing Matties confidence in the place, but he still attempted to please her with his choice of lodging, since that was his one wish that day: to be the best man for her that he could be, with the best house, finest clothing, and the most confidence. Even though is facade was noticed by Mattie, he still forced himself to believe that she didnt notice anything.brbr

"Now, lets see our rooms", he said quickly, almost compelling her to have as much false hope for their new home as he did. They walked towards the back rooms, where they saw what looked like a living room and bedroom molded into one. There was an old fireplace, a shambled piano, several photos, a moth-eaten couch, and a large bed with a faded quilt placed on top of it. Cheesy pink wallpaper enveloped the already over-stuffed room, filled with nick-knacks and old photographs. Mattie sighed; she knew that this wasnt going to be fun. brbr

"Oh, my love, come here! We have finally settled down, and tomorrow, we'll be married." He leaned in for another kiss to her, but just before, to her pleasure, there was a rapture at the door. brbr

"Oh, hold on dear", she said, putting her finger on his closing lips. "I'll get that." Whoever was knocking was obviously in a very demanding mood, because the knocks were polyrhythmic, sporadic, and with fierce intensity. iMy, who could that possibly be?/i she wondered to herself as she glided with purpose towards the shops door. She opened the door, which once again creaked with the sounds of hyenas, which revealed a man standing at the door. He was the most curious looking man she had ever seen. A thin, buzzed set of hair on his head was as brown as his clothing, which at one point must have had some color. Mattie couldn't decide how old this man was; he could be thirty or sixty, as if he aged farther than the years have inflicted on his body. He was bent over from years of labor, and his hands made sudden, violent twitches.brbr

"'scuse me miss?" he said politely.

brbr

"Yes, how may I 'elp you?"

brbr

"Do you know what 'dis place is, mum?"brbr

"Yes, its an old pie shot, and now it is myi home/i", she said unenthusiastically, accentuating the last word loudly enough so that her husband would be able to hear her.brbr

"I'd be best that you leave mum. 'Tis haunted by demons, demons," he repeated with a twitch.

"So many signs of such curses! They certainly irritate me, but perhaps I could use an excuse to leave this place. Please, come in sir." She allowed the man to half walk, half limp inside and sit in the dusty booth in the corner of the room. She heard the footsteps of her fiance enter from the bedroom.brbr

"Who is this man, honey?" he asked with curiosity on his mind. At the sound of the word honey, she felt a pang in her chest.brbr

"This is, um-sorry, what is your name?" The man reached out his hand slowly and with great difficulty as it twitched along the way to meek Jacks hand.brbr

"Tobias. Tobias Ragg, sir."

brbr

"Well, Mr. Ragg, what brings you to our new home?" Jack was feeling uncomfortable with a stranger in his home, but Mattie appeared at ease with this man, so he sucked up his courage to appear at ease as well.brbr

"'Dis place 's haunted, good fellow," replied Tobias with a gasp. He seemed frightened just to be in the room, as if a man with a knife was hiding somewhere concealed.brbr

"Haunted? Ridiculous, there is no such foolish thing as ghosts, Mr. Ragg."brbr

"Ah, but there is! See, many years ago, 'ow long...forty years, wow. 'nyway, 'tis haunted by the Devil 'nd his Wife. Beware of it. You see, years ago, sumthin' happened here, sunthin' not very nice, sumthin' cruel and evil." By now, Mattie was full of curiosity by the story of this strange old man.brbr

"What happened ere, Mr. Ragg?"brbr Tobias seemed to collect himself as he prepared to tell the tale. He looked into the eyes of Mattie and Jack, seeming to compel the two to attend the story.brbr

"There was a barber and his wife. Foolish man, beautiful woman, 'wit 'ellow hair. They ad a daughter, Johanna. Pretty little thing, she was. There was a man, a judge, who stole the wife 'n daughter away, and transported the barber for life. He came back wit a vengeance, teamin up wit' a Mrs. Lovette to seek revenge. Sweeney Todd 'twas his name. Demon, he was. Killed his customers, 'e did, 'n sent 'em to Mrs. Lovette as meat for 'er meat pies." brbr

"'ow awful!" Mattie gasped at the horror of such human cruelty and antihumanity. brbr

"'eve been long dead, but you still feel 'em all over Fleet Street. I beg you, dont let 'em torment you like they did me. Leave this cursed place for time to take, don' waken their ghosts again, else they'll never leave you. They'll posses you they will!" Mr. Raggs speech grew more intense as he began to shake uncontrollably, as if he was on the verge of slipping into madness. "Monster, demon, witch, witch!" He yelled. Jack began to lead Tobias out of the door, almost dragging him from his seat, and yelling at him to calm down along the way.brbr

"Out, I say, n dont come back you old beggar!" With that, he slammed the door shut, leaving the echo to sound throughout the house with surprising efficiency. brbr

"Foolishness, foolishness," he muttered to himself.


	2. Curiosity Kills

_sumthin' happened here, sumthin' not very nice_

The words sent a shiver down Mattie's spine, a chill that penetrated her very core. She was enthralled by the story as soon as Tobias said those words, and since then, it was all she could think about.

_There was a barber and his wife..._

Mattie knew that many rumors surrounded Fleet Street, but as to what exactly they were, she did not know up until five hours ago. After her fiance forced Mr. Ragg out of the house, they spoke very little to each other. What could they say? To live in a place of such barbarism (no pun intended), with such a colorful, no, bloody history was sure to give Mattie nightmares.

After Tobias left, Mattie and Jack at once began unpacking all their worldly possessions, from their clothing to their music books; from their photographs to Mattie's perfumes. Jack quickly put away most of the photographs and knick-knacks that littered the mantle above the fireplace, relics of a life long gone, like the artifacts of a once great civilization. He spent no time replacing them with their own relics: photos of his family, her family, and each other, smiling. He grinned at the finished product, a temple to the life he hoped to build with Ms. Crawford and himself. She began to dust off the house after they finished unpacking three or so hours later. By then, the sun was once again swallowed in a sea of menacing clouds, and was almost finished descending into its daily run through Haties.

_You know, once cleaned, it really isn't that bad of a place,_ Mattie thought to herself. Sure, the place was still in need of major repairs, but she'd seen even worse establishments on their journey to this place. She seemed to be in a daze, thinking in flashes between pies, razors, blood, and above all, her eminent wedding tomorrow. The thought of it filled her with dread. It wasn't that she hated Jack, she simply didn't love him. This marriage was almost forced on her, mainly by her parents, desperate to relieve themselves of their debts; supporting a daughter after many years becomes increasingly difficult. Mr. Driskall was a suitable match, and so it was. No questions, no excuses, just results. That was over six weeks ago. iWow, how time flies/i she thought as she continued to dust.

Jack was helping tidy up the bedroom while Mattie was sweeping up the ghost of a restaurant. He smiled, watching her with such happiness in his heart. He loved her, truly, from the moment he laid eyes upon her face. He remembered that it was the most beautiful face hed ever seen, one of such grace, such delicacy, that he was instantly love struck. Still, he felt insecure with her. He had always tried desperately to make her love him, but it was beginning to become more and more obvious to him that she didn't return the feelings. Still, he would try and try again to make himself the best man for her that he could possibly be. Yet, despite his attempts to appear warm and carry bravado, he never felt more alone in his life, like he was desperate to have her hear him, but he was behind a thick window pane.

Jack proceeded outside to conclude what outside repairs needed to be done to their new home. It was in dire need of a paint job. Perhaps something in a warm color to relieve the gloom of Fleet Street, perhaps bring it back to its former glory. That awful sign that said "Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pie Emporium" would have to be taken down immediately, as would the decaying barber sign on the shop up above. Come to think of it, he had not yet been inside the upper room. It looked most uninviting, those dented stairs, and that door with the dirtiest window he had ever laid eyes upon. Looking around to make sure nobody was watching he slowly crept up the stairs and down into the gate to Hell. Mr. Driskall was taken aback by the story that Mr. Ragg had told him, but he didn't believe in foolish things such as ghosts and demons. In fact, Mr. Ragg didn't know what to believe anymore. He didn't know if the sky was heaven, but he prayed anyway; he didn't know if he believed in love, but maybe only promise. Perhaps it was his incapability to state his mind or make clear decisions that made him such a confused person, wearing a mask of one who always has his mind made up.

The door was of a dark, dark wood, almost the color granite, as if it was made of petrified wood. The handle resembled the one was on the front door of the pie-shop, and he couldn't see past the opaque window into the unknown beyond the door. He turned the handle, surprised to find it unlocked. It amazed him how there was no graffiti on the door or inside, which was surprisingly barren. _People must be too afraid to come up here_, he thought.

The first thing that Jack noticed was the odd patches of filthy brown that caked the middle of the room, especially the large window, which was more of a skylight to spy on the people below. The stuff was everywhere, on the horribly peeling wallpaper (which at some point must have been a canary yellow), but especially all over the large, mechanical looking barber's chair that seemed to be the dead center of the rather empty quarters. The only other items were an old, leather-bound trunk, a credenza with a single photograph, a tea stove, and a rusting crib in the farthest corner. He took a few steps inside the chilly room. His breath drew steam against the bitter cold of the room. The place was dead, even deader then the pie shop. Something about it brought a sense of dread, of nervousness, of death, of fear. Jack could not keep his eyes off of the empty barber chair, a monster in itself, which resembled the same color as the unidentified brown substance that seemed to grow on it and the area surrounding it, like a parasitic moss. He could see some small patches of red, crushed velvet on the worn cushion. He could see from where he stood that there were several gears underneath the chair, as well as a small lever at its base. It smelled of rotten meat, of a butchered animal that was killed several days earlier. It was an underscoring scent, but at one time it may have been overpowering. The floor creaked loudly in a sound that was similar to the door, like that of a gargling hyena. Jack noticed his skin, especially his throat, began to raise in goosebumps, and the hairs on his neck stood up as if being inspected by an officer.

There was an echo, a sound in the room, which seemed to have been engendered by the increasing wind outside, or was it coming from the inside? It was a faint whistle, almost like a tune, but he quickly realized it was far more sinister than that. He could've sworn he heard voices, almost as faint as the ticking of his pocket watch, crying in ecstasy, or was it torment? Whatever it was, it was beyond human, like a beast slaughtered in the dead of night where no one could hear it scream.

Jack scratched at the strange brown crust, making flecks that flew up into the air along with the dust that greeted his knees with every step that he took. He smelt his fingertips. The scent was familiar, but he couldn't quite decipher what it was. The smell was esoteric, and it irritated Jack, who felt as if the answer pulsated on the tip of his tongue. Looking at his hand placed on the floor, he noticed the material stuck to his hand, leaving it looking like it was caked with dried mud.

He proceeded to the credenza, staring at the photograph. It was a picture of a woman, a beautiful woman, with yellow hair. _The barber's wife_, he thought. She was holding a child, her daughter, who was dressed in swaddling white clothes. _The barber's daughter_, he thought. Part of the photograph was also covered in the unusual brown cake, in a wide, uneven streak, which appeared to have dripped towards the side by gravity. This one piece of history was the only thing in the room to have indicated that someone once lived here, loved here, treasured here. He placed the photograph down, and decided that that's where it should be, never to be removed.

He then focused his attention on a green rectangular box, laid down beside the picture of the barber's wife and daughter. It looked surprisingly clean and well taken care of, considering the condition of the rest of the room. He opened the lid of the box, which slid right off with considerable ease. Inside was probably the only clean and polished thing in all of Fleet Street: a six set of beautiful, shining, silver straight-edged razors. They glistened, almost smiling from the light that bounced off against them.

_My friends_

Jack turned suddenly, hearing the cough that seemed to have formed those words. The voice sounded like the wind trying to speak, but with a slight, low growl. After seeing that no one else was in the room, he continued to examine the pretty things. He lifted the largest one out of its box, staring at the silver laden handle, which was intricately carved, forming a scene of an elaborate ships sailing towards Destiny. It looked like it was just polished yesterday: not a hint of tarnish shone through it. He flipped open the razor to glance at its full grandeur. It slid out of its dormant slumber swiftly and easily, and let out a high frequency ring when it did. What a splendor, it was, much prettier than Jack's scalpels that he handled with at the hospital. The razors were like poetry, ringing from the lips of a maiden on the hill to her lover. Their shine was penetrating, a piece of the sun that managed to escape his cloudy captors. It possessed such clarity that Jack could see a sliver of his reflection as easily as if he looked into a mirror. He tipped it to observe his eyes; his warm, calm, collective eyes that looked at the razor as a work of art, a masterpiece of handycraft. He suddenly felt the urge of running his finger down its spine. In doing so, it gave out a squeak of joy, savoring the feeling of being held close once again. The cold silver became warm in his hands, like the touch of his fiance's hand on his face.

_Splendors..._

This time, Mr. Driskall was ready for the voice.

"Blood," he said, having a sudden epiphany as to the ingredient of the unknown substance. "That's what it is," is he concluded.

It soon occurred to Mattie that Jack had been upstairs for quite sometime, hearing the occasional footstep from upstairs that surely belonged to him. She stood back to observe her cleaning work, seeing how the room looked ten times better than its previous condition. Far more work needed to be done, but she was now tired, and she sat down inside the booth to collect her thoughts. This wasn't a life that she wanted, or even wished for, but one that was going to be of certain boredom and annoyance. Perhaps she should have an affair. Just as the idea began to blossom in her head, she was cut off by another sound, one of heavy, if not deliberate pounding. It was footsteps from upstairs, and they appeared to sound as if pacing back and forth. She knew for a fact that Jack never paced, and those footsteps certainly weren't his own. This peculiarity startled her for a minute, but they soon faded into dust as quickly as they had come.


	3. Nightmares

Thanks for reading. You deserve fudge pop. Anywhoo, I don't know how often I'll update, but hopefully it will be soon.

Disclaimer: Sweeney Todd isn't mine. I don't even know why I bother with this. Will I be sued if I don't?

* * *

Mattie sat inside of the faded booth, somewhat apprehensive about the footsteps she heard from above. They were awfully loud, demanding footsteps, almost like Tobias', except these footsteps were steady, clean, like a metronome, and sounded like a pacing man in a deep pensive state. She knew immediately that it couldn't be Jack's feet making such a sound, for he walked with a slight limp thanks to a large ankle fracture that he suffered from when he was just a small boy. Could there be someone else up there with him? But who, who would have known who they were; they just moved in only hours ago, and besides Tobias, they hadn't spoken to any neighbors. Unless...naw, couldn't be. Mattie quickly brushed the thought aside, and decided to do some exploring around her new home, if of course, there was anything left in this hellhole to explore. She felt like she had seen every speck of it from all the unpacking and dusting, and couldn't think of anywhere else to look. She sighed, and decided to turn in for the night. After all, one should look pretty for their, ugh, _wedding day_.

She tiptoed towards the bedroom when she tripped over an inconspicuous raised plank of wood, sending her face forward towards the hard floor. She placed her hands in front of her, landing with a thump and knocking the wind out of her body. She slowly brought herself together, and tilted her head up. Looking from this angle, she could see that a section the sloped north wall towards the back of the kitchen seemed to be poorly plastered. She sighed, thinking about all the more work she and Jack would have to do. But just as she was just about to brush this thought aside, she noticed what appeared to be a flat, wooden plank hidden underneath the layer of plaster. A door, perhaps? Yes, it did appear to be a door, hidden away inadequately by an unknown soul. Staring curiously at this stowed away piece, she slowly scratched the wall. A small chunk came off surprisingly easy. She scratched at it more, and a larger chunk came off this time. She quickly retreated into the bedroom, pulled out Jack's hammer, and began to pound away at the wall. It took her many minutes, but soon all the plaster lay in large, flat sheets by her feet, revealing a door with a missing handle.

At first, one would find such a door as this undistinguished, but as closer inspection, one could not turn his eyes away. Something about it was attractive, but not in a typical way; it was attractive in a sinister way, like a flirting temptress. She approached it with curiosity, wondering if it would be able to be opened. She pulled it, and it creaked with the same gargling hyena sound, only this time, a deep echo, like a growl, accompanied it. She expected the worst: a skeleton, a cellar of knives with the blood still on them. Instead, she saw a shadowy staircase, one of stone that lead to an uninviting steel door reminding her of a bank safe. There was an awful draft and a scent most fowl that was brought up by it. Cautiously, she descended, her boots clicking against the stone floor. The steel door was cold to the touch, like it had never felt warmth. At first, it looked impossible to open, but the handle lifted easily, as if coercing her to enter. The door was heavy and stiff from not being opened for so many years.

Mattie almost regretted opening the door. This time, the stench raced through her nostrils at full blast. It was something so foul and unclean, like nothing she ever smelt before. It seemed to be a cross between a sewer, a rotten corpse, and burning rubber. The room was pitch black, giving it the feeling of an empty mausoleum. Not daring to enter without adequate lighting, she quickly rushed up the stairs to retrieve a lamp. While trotting up the stairs, she couldn't help but feel like she was being followed by the darkness. When she returned, she brought the glowing beacon of guidance, and walked slowly through the open room. It was as freezing as ever, and seemed as large as a warehouse. She stepped through the stone floors, darkness feeling like a giant mouth ready to swallow her whole. There appeared to only be two things in the entire room, an enormous meat grinder and the main furnace. Both were rusting heaps of metal, seemingly useless. The meat grinder flipped her stomach over when she saw it. From the moment she laid her eyes upon it, its history flashed before her. Visions of human flesh: hands, ribs, arms, being grinded by its vicious teeth came to her mind like a wave surge. She threw up a little in her mouth. She then turned her attention towards the furnace. This monster also gave her the chills. She just imagined the sinister pies backing the faces of unknown men. She felt a slight crunch beneath her feet, a hard mossy substance that seemed unidentifiable. She knelt down at the pool of the crunching substance, bringing the lantern close to the ground. The crusting, brown substance caked the floor in an even, thick puddle. She gasped in horror, realizing instantly what it was. She dashed out of the room as quickly as she could, and into the safety of light.

* * *

Jack laid down his head on the pillow of the couch, ansty for the big day tomorrow. He looked over to his fiance, sleeping peacefully in the bed. Smiling, he dreamed about tomorrow, her white dress, the grand church, and a wonderful life afterward. Clouded by these foolish thoughts, he drifted dreamily into a sleep as soft as clouds, having visions of Mattie, her smile, her kiss. But then his thoughts went back to the barber shop. That damn barber shop. Ever since he descended from his steps, its memory continued to pour into his frustrated head. Who was this man, this Sweeney Todd, he wondered. He sighed, hoping that heavy breath would thrust the thoughts out of his head, which only wanted peaceful, happy dreams. He turned his head over and closed his eyes.

Mattie was sleeping, but not peacefully. She was surprised that her eyes were even closed. Her restlessness wasn't showing in her usually fidgety body, perhaps out of fear or shock from her encounter with the bake house. Since leaving that God forsaken basement, she couldn't seem to replace its memory which was driving into her skull. It was annoying, how much such a seemingly harmless thing haunted her so much, driving out all her thoughts of tomorrow. She was glad of that relief, only soon realizing that she wanted nothing more than to think of her wedding. Still, the idea of standing in such a thick puddle of old blood left her in a daze. When they met up again with each other after their tours of the place, they didn't speak a word to each other; both of them seemed lost in their own thoughts. Knowing him, Mattie suspected that he was absorbed by thoughts of tomorrow. So typical of him, she thought. Mattie scoffed, and turned her head into a restless night.

* * *

Jack was standing in the barber shop, staring out the window, looking into the rain. A feeling of depression, anger, love, and hate filled him with a passion, in a way that he never had felt before, never thought any human being could feel. He looked down at a pair of shoes that weren't his, and brushed dust off pants that didn't belong to him. He turned to see a man sitting in the barbers chair, with a white sheet covering him, and shaving cream almost as white as the sheet. His neck was bare, and he could see his artery pulsating in a sickly blue color. He grinned, and seemed attracted to this bare neck in a way he never thought he could, like a wolf to a unsuspecting deer. It sickened him, this feeling of a lust that was foreign, yet so familiar. He felt for an object that was held in a holster on the side of his pants, and he felt warm metal, thin and engraved. Before even looking at it, he knew it was a razor. He flipped it open; starting at his reflection, except it wasn't his reflection. Instead of his kind and steady face, he saw a sliver of another man, and man he'd never seen in his life. His skin was paler than the shaving creme, almost a pearly color. And his hair gave the appearance of small black wire that was twisted beyond measure, with one thin, pure white streak that ran down it. His eyes were dark and brooding instead of their warm brown. He grinned, reveling slightly pointed teeth. Suddenly, without thinking, he brought the silver snake upon the inviting neck of the unsuspecting man. He gargled as his artery was perfectly sliced open, spewing blood over the white sheet. The man struggled to speak, but only an awful sucking sound came out. His scream died along with his ghost, as Jack pressed a side lever, and watched the body tip back and fall into the black abyss. There was a crack below, and he laughed a laugh that was less than human, but more than animal. He brought out a blood soaked towel and began cleaning the scarlet stained razor...

* * *

"NOOO!" Jack woke with a scream, one that rattled his body with intensity. It was a cry that was filled with unimaginable horror, anger, and passion. He was covered in sweat, and he felt chills all over his body in a way that only a fever could bring. His palms felt clammy, and his foot was bruised from kicking the couch in an attempt to awaken his head. The fire was low and cold, and from the clock he saw that it was 2:36 in the morning. He stared at the wall, unable to feel, unable to comprehend. He had never experienced a nightmare such as this in all of his life, one with such emotion and realism that he felt as if he truly was there, watching the poor man die in such an inhumane way. In the vision, part of him felt shock, but the other felt an eerie feeling of corrupt happiness. He knew then and there that the man he was...saw..._was_ in his dream was none other than Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street. There was no doubt in his mind the truth of that.

Mattie came over to his side, her hair in a mess from tossing and turning. She knelt by his side, looking far more irritable than concerned. Beauty sleep was very important to her, and such fits in the night made her feel the stress of aging creep onto her face.

"Wha' was that wit' all the shoutin' n' moanin'?" she asked annoyed. She felt no pity seeing his terrified face trickling with sweat, only the dread of dealing with this many more nights to come. She hoped and prayed that such nightmares were not a nightly occurrence. After waiting for an answer that never came, she sighed and heaved herself up, and headed to the bathroom to wet a cloth to wipe up Jack's sweaty face. Jack didn't look at her when she wiped his face; he only continued to stare into nothingness, as if attempting to stare backwards into his skull. Staring into his eyes, she saw that their giddiness was gone, and only solemn pupils remained. He looked drained, as if all of the happiness in the world had left his face. She stared at him now not with ill contempt, but with curiosity, wondering what the bloody hell he dreamed off.

"Jack, wha' happened?" she questioned him again. He turned himself slowly toward her, facing her curious eyes and meeting her with his grave ones. He opened his mouth to speak, and out came a voice that was far quieter and calmer than his usual tone.

"I had a nightmare, an awful one," he said. "It 'twas like nothing I've ever dreamt. It was awful..." he seemed to reflect on the memory as he drifted slowly into the corners of his mind. "I was there in the barber shop up above. It was me, but not really me, like I was sharing a body and soul with another man, one whom I've never seen. He had a head of hair like no man I've ever seen, and eyes as black as sin. Awful looking man, so full of hate in his face, such bloodlust as I've never seen before. I felt his razor, but it was like I couldn't control my hand, and I brought it down on a poor man's neck," he began to tear up and folded over, resting his forehead on his knees. "was horrible, so real, so real..."

Mattie couldn't help but feel sorry for him. In the several weeks she had known him, she had never seen him appear this defeated. He continued to rest his face between his knees, looking so lost, so saddened. It was a curious dream, though. It's clarity and realism was too much for him, as was the odd feeling that came along with it. He felt the body, felt the warm of it and the clothes on his back in the dream, yet it wasn't him. In addition, he had consciousness of his own being, but it seemed to fight with the soul of another, one far stronger and more determined that he. It was like being, what's the word, _possessed_.

"There there, Jack," she said. "It'll be alright. Jus' let all these ghosts go away. Send 'em from your mind now," she said kindly, softly. He patted his shoulder in a slightly affectionate way. "Rest now, for tomorrow 'tis the big day," she said frowning,suddenly filled with apprehension as her mind went back to the attention of tomorrow. She brought the blanket back over Jack's body and leaned him back so that he could lie down once again. After that, there were no more disturbances for the entire evening.


	4. Temptation

**Hey, thanks everyone for the reviews. They really inspire me to keep writing. Sorry for the longest delay ever, but stories will be posted much faster than **

**before. In the mean time, sit back, relax, and enjoy(or don't, which would be most unfortunate).**

In the early breath of the morning rose a thick London fog. Now London is famous for it's mist; it is as thick as a quilt, but not until today has such a blanket ever been seen. It crept slowly at first, a shadow that lengthened as the day flew up. By the tear of morning, it had become a coverlet as thick as the smoke of opium, but didn't smell nearly as nice. It was more than a mere fog, but ugly smog which suffocated what little sweet smelling air that London possessed. Days such as these were considered omens of clouded futures, ones that made us blind, brought confusion, created tension, or bubbled misunderstandings. Such times made the superstitious especially fearful, and a most of the passerby were seen carrying their good luck charms.

Jack rose bright and early, the fears of the previous night had seemed to have retreated into their place among the greenish thickness that dwelled outside on Fleet Street. The comforting blaze of the fire had burned out only hours before, or was it days? Jack couldn't remember yesterday, and felt as dead as a weight of lead, as if he had slept for two days straight. Was he even awake? No, he was, and waves of memories of the happy occasion yesterday that was their wedding flowed through his body like water. Much to his dismay, it was neither perfect, nor glamorous (the reception was nothing more than their parents and them at a local pub), yet he remembered being the happiest he had felt in a very long time. He turned to his wife's side, looking down upon her dewy face, a thin brown curl dancing over her eye. "Good morning." He kissed her forehead, the weight upon his back lifting off of him as he re-accounted the glorious feeling of the night before; him holding her tight, him feeling her body close to him, the wedding kiss...He had the urge to fall back into a happy dream, but was interrupted by Mattie turning over to look at him.

"Did you say sumthin'?" she inquired, looking at his gleaming face.

"Just woke you to say, happy days and happy nights are ahead," he replied kissing her forehead again. Happy nights indeed. She realized another one of her fears last night: Jack was undoubtedly the world's most horrible lover. Not that she'd ever been with anyone else, but anyone could probably tell that he was a zero in the bed department. Happy days were sure to be an oxymoron.

"Good morrow to you too," she said without enthusiasm. He leaned in for another kiss, but she turned her head and left the bed to put on a dress. Jack, realizing that she was in no mood for a kiss, pulled himself out of bed and began to put on his doctor's uniform. He would begin his job today in the St. Margaret's Hospital of London, one that he was unsure of. From what he'd heard, the place was an absolute joke of a hospital, more of an apothecary than a doctor's place. Still, it was the only hospital in a 10 mile radius of the house, and his previous job was over 20 miles away, too far to make it on time. Mattie would be spending her days at the house until she could find friends to spend tea time with or eat biscuits. He brushed his brown hair into a neat set of waves, giving him a near gentleman status look. After all, one must look their best for a job. Mattie made breakfast out of oatmeal and toast: ordinary, unlike the weather. For a while Jack didn't want to trudge out into the streets with such a horrendous fog, but realized it was all for the best if he went. Before departing, he retreated to the upstairs room, when his wife was fixing her hair. After returning downstairs, he waved his wife goodbye, and briskly walked out into a mist so thick that Mattie lost sight of him after only a few steps out of the door.

Once he was out of her sight, Mattie turned to face the old pie shop, an almost useless addition to the house. She sighed, thinking of long boring days that lay ahead of her. She didn't know any of the neighbors, and from what she observed, she felt as if she didnt want to. Still, it was better than living the rest of her days in solitude. She pondered for a while how she could acquire a few local friends. Many of her close companions lived over 40 miles away: close from her old home, but now reaching them and returning home could take the entire day, or even more. Perhaps she could write to one of them today, or even all of them. What time did she have to lose? Mattie gathered her best stationary and sat in the booth, determined to procrastinate a much as possible. She began to write to them, inquiring to them about how her days were, about her home and husband, which she made sure to write in a way that was as sugar coated as fresh taffy. She did not wish to mention about her woes and worries of her new home, especially considering its notorious history. She saw no reason for her to bring her friends any trouble or worry, lest they all become officious in their writings, scolding her about poor choices and things that she didn't want to hear. She purposely wrote as slowly as possible, hoping that time would speed up around her, letting this day end. By the time she finished her letters with meticulous detail and perfection, carefully creasing the letters perfectly in division, spent careful time placing the stamps in perfect angularity to the corner of the envelope, only two hours were used up. "Dammit!" she cursed to herself, and placed her forehead on the table. She let her mind drift, thinking about chores she could do, or book clubs she could attend, drifing in and out of thoughts. They soon moved away from their pettyness, and turned darker. Clouded thoughts of coldness made her skin tingle. This lonliness was taking its toll on her, and she felt irritable. She eventually became lost in her thoughts, consumed by a plague of hopelessness, want, and confusion. All of these mood swings were beginning to wear at her body, making her always crave for rest. She closed and drifted into a restless sleep, the edge of the table pinching her rib cage...

* * *

Mattie was standing in the bake house, finishing up scrubbing a large spot on the floor, as well as a trail that lead towards the meat grinder. She inspected the stone floors and concluded that the job was done well enough. The dress she wore felt awfully heavy, and could see it decorated in an ornate matter, full of useless trimming and details. She wore tasteless fingerless gloves, which served more as dusters than hand-warmers. The menacing glow of the oven radiated on her back, casting a long and thin silhouette. She felt shorter and older somehow, like she wasn't herself, but someone else. Her thoughts seemed sporadic and shifty, at sometimes thinking of work ahead, then reverting back to Jack and his overbearing grin. She glided forward with purpose and pride, carried by feet that seemed to move against her will towards the heaping pile of metal that contained the foulest smelling meat ever. The whole bake house reeked of some ghastly smell, which was far worse than when she first experienced it that first day in this underground pit. She stepped in front of a large, outlandish handle on the side of the heaping contraption. Grabbing it, Mattie, no, she (for Mattie knew for sure now that this woman in the dream was not her, though she saw this scene as if from the mystery woman's eyes) began to turn the iron rod, making a sickening grinding noise as the pile of meat was chopped and sloshed through like rock made into butter. She felt disgusted as she heard the finely grounded meat dripped from the grinder and dripped into a large trough. After a few minutes of working, the trough was half-way full. Satisfied, she was just about to shovel the meat into the multitude of tin cans that were scattered about the bake house when there was a loud creak, then the sound of an opening door made her stop. It wasn't the door to the bake house, but another one that Mattie had not noticed in her previous excursion. She shifted her eyes towards the ceiling to see and inconspicuous trap door open. A large, dark mass fell through. Upon first instant, Mattie couldn't comprehend what this immense mass was, until it cracked on the floor and blood splattered about. Once it landed with a splitting of a skull, she saw it was a man, dead, with his last look one of horror as he realized his grizzly fate. Mattie wanted to scream, and shouted in her mind she did, but this body simply sighed and muttered about cleaning up another mess. She dragged the body to a large flat slate, raised a large butcher's knife, and sliced it down on his cheast...

* * *

"OH MY GOD!" she shouted with forceful intensity, a cry escaping her lips that resembled Jack's from his nightmare during the night. She woke up with a cold sweat upon her face, her breathing short yet strong. Hyperventilating, she raced to the restroom to splash cold water upon her face. Wiping her pale skin, she stared at her eyes, wide with disbelief and bloodshot. She stared at her face, making sure it was hers and not belonging to another. It took her until she was awake in this state of shock, but she realized that the woman she dreamed of had to be the infamous Mrs. Lovett. She couldn't believe what she saw. Had that woman no pity in her heart? Did she even have any thoughts to those poor souls other than the mess their blood and brains made on the floor? She had to leave the house then, if only for a few hours. She swiped her purse of the hat rack and slipped into her coat, and raced out of the house. She felt her heart grow warmer and lift out of its weight the moment she stepped into the thick, sullied fog, jogging off to the local market.

Markets, malls, outlets, what have you, are usually respectable establishments with a decent amount of taste and class that carries them with a certain grace, excitement, or freshness. Contrary to those, the Fore Street Market couldn't have been more opposite, so lacking in taste and no possessing even the slightest bit of grace. No, the Fore Street Market was a chaos populated by a great multitude of ruddy stands, selling everything from headless chickens with their feathers still on, to sex, to tacky rugs, to rusty swords. Such a random assortment was diffused throughout it; some were sellers, others beggars, prostitutes, Lords and their Ladies, and many ordinary denizens. Mattie wondered about their presence in a stupor, not really hearing the cries of the countless clerks desperate for a customers attention. All she wanted was to clear her mind, which was now as foggy as the air around her, made even worse here than most of London. She could only think about that unidentifiable poor creature that had not been shown any help, any mercy. He fell to the earth, only to be swallowed by it, ready to be prepared for consumption. She felt appalled by the sight of herself dragging his open-ended body and thoughtlessly hacking him into strips for the meat grinder.

"'Scuse me miss?"

Mattie jumped back in a jolt, preparing to flee from anything that so much as tapped her shoulder. She spun around, expecting some pick-pocketer trying to distract her from his hand slipping into her purse. Instead, she gazed upon the most gorgeous man she'd have ever seen, and possibly the most beautiful human in all of England. He was tall, but not much more than she, with a strong jaw and chin, lacking even a speck of stubble. His skin was slightly tanned, enhancing his midnight blue eyes that seemed as deep as the Atlantic. His dark brown hair was styled in a neat set of waves that begged for a hand to run through it. He wore a new and well-fitted work suit, and his golden pocket watch chain was dangling out of his breast pocket. Standing in this crowd, he stood out as bright as the sunset. "Are you lost?" he asked in a deep, velvet voice that bore a Scottish accent. "'Tis not wise for a lady like yourself to be lone of these streets," he grinned, bearing a full of set of good, strong teeth.

"No sir, I'm not lost, jus' in a bit 'o a stupor 'tis all," she replied politely, smiling coyly at his seductive, inviting eyes. "Wha' bout you? 'Tis not wise for a man as well dressed as yourself to be walkin' down these streets withou' a Beadle," she said in a teasing voice. He chuckled at her comment.

"A man like me can take care 'o 'imself," he smiled. She giggled at his sweet smile, one of the few full grown men besides Jack who could proudly display all of his teeth. "My name is Ethan Dolton, and wit wha' pleasure may I ask is your name?" he asked, holding out his hand in a manner that a man uses to kiss a woman's hand. Just as she was about to return the favor by holding out her hand, she quickly realized her wedding ring was on. In a slip, she pulled it off effortlessly and without Ethan's apparent knowledge.

"Crawford, Miss Mattie Crawford," she said, holding out her had and letting him kiss it gently.

"So Miss Mattie, wha' may I inquire as to why you are wonderin' this market alone?" he asked.

"Oh, you know, lookin' for a good deal. And wha' bout yourself?"

"Same as you I 'spose. I was headin' back to my flat. But maybe I could git you sum coffee?" he said, smiling flirtily. At first she pursed her lips as if to speak a yes, but then her thoughts flashed images of Jack, looking at her with that sweet yet idiotic smile. She knew that he loved only her, and that he would be completely broken if he knew she was doing this. Still, it was only coffee, what was the harm in a fresh refreshment with an acquaintance?

"Well, if only for a short while. Lead the way." And with that, they descended down the hill, away from whatever worries dotted their minds, until the thick fog covered all that remained of their silhouettes.

* * *

Jack finished the amputation over an hour ago, but he could still hear the screams that cried from the young man. Removal of leg wasn't pleasant, but when gangrene strikes you, there isn't anything else to do. Such work was gruesome, yet necessary. When he first started his doctorial practices, gazing upon the faces of the patients in agony almost sent him over the edge, but since then, his stomach had tightened. He often wished there was a way of putting them out of their misery. It was often common practice of doping them with opium or marijuana, but Jack had never trusted such practices, always having the feeling of something sinister that was behind their comforting stupor.

He was walking through the brisk afternoon air, still encircled in fog so thick that a knife might have cut through it like butter. His hair was slightly frazzled from all of the mist, which gave him a slightly wild look. His steps were echoing against the tall houses of the privileged few who could afford such nice places. Not many were going about today; women were too afraid to frazzle their hair and men didn't want to crash their carriages because they couldn't see fifteen feet in front of them. So other than a stray dog that lay dying in the street, there wasn't a soul to be seen but him. He quickened his pace; wanting nothing more than to reach home and find his wife. Perhaps she picked up some of his favorite toffees, she knew that he adored the candies. He became lost in his daydreams of her, with her hair shining in the light of the fireplace, playing a beautiful sonatina on the piano, perhaps a piece by Thomas Attwood. Or maybe not, more than likely she was cleaning the house, baking, or writing letters to friends. He wondered if he should grow out of his dreams, thinking that maybe he needed to mature out of their web of a reality that doesnt exist.

He suddenly became aware of another one's steps which were casually trailing his own path of direction. Uncomfortable, he quickened his steps, but the ones that belonged to the unknown man quickened as well. Jack felt for the large razor in his jacket pocket. Before leaving the house that morning, he went upstairs to the old barber shop to feel the gleaming silver once again. For whatever reason, the warmth of the intricate blades was soothing, interesting, tempting. A small voice that nobody could hear seemed to be whispering into his mind, "Take them. Aren't my friends precious?" Something about them felt...comforting. Before leaving for work, he placed the smallest one in his pocket. Grabbing the razor, he turned around, preparing to defend himself against a possible mugger or worse, a murderer. He flipped the razor, revealing the shining sharp end of the blade. He quickly realized his follower was none other than Tobais Ragg. At the sight of the blade, Tobias eyes grew wide with horror, and he cringed in fear of the tool, whimpering at the sight of it.

"Oh dear! I'm so sorry Mr. Ragg, I must've mistaken you for a mugg-"

"Where did you git tha'?" he said in a hoarse, slightly panicked voice, pointing at the silver razor as if all of the worlds curses were cast upon it by a great witch doctor. "Didn't I tell you to leave dat house? 's cursed, you know! And them razors, 'orrors 'appen to those who've felt their touch. Beware 'o 'em sir, throw 'em in the sea where they belong!" Tobias seemed to go into a fit of panic, rage, and maddness. He began to cling to Jack, begging him to throw away the "Devil's Instruments". Jack was becoming quite irritated with this man, who was quickly ruining his otherwise ordinary day.

"Must you bother me sir? Away with you!" he shouted, pushing Tobias to the ground, the old man crumbled when he hit the pavement. Jack had no interest in helping him out: he was trying to ruin his otherwise perfect life. With that, he disappeared down the avenue until Tobias could only see his shape; his long coat, messy hair, and the razor held unfolded in his right hand. For a fleeting second, Tobais gasped, thinking it couldn't possibly be, until Jack faded into the distance.

**Remember, don't do pot kiddies, promise? Otherwise, you might end up on Jack's surgical table like that poor guy with the amputated limb**

* * *


	5. Open Minds

**Yeah, sorry for the longest delay ever, but you know how it goes. Tension, problems, and secrets, oh my! BTW, the story will be rated M for Chapters 9 and 10. I know, it sucks, but that's the way it is.**

**Also, because you are reading this, I send you another Goodie of the Day(which, I have decided, will be my tradition). Today's treat, from your Obediant Humble Servant, is chocolate covered strawberries.**

* * *

The house was as quiet as the dead, as cold as death, it _was_ dead. Not since Mattie had first stepped into 183 Fleet Street had she ever known such an eerie feeling of loss and loneliness. The ghosts of the former residents were notable. Not fully present, not overt, but one could sense their watchful eyes of this girl, this couple, this doctor and his wife. The hauntedness of it all sent Mattie into a shiver that pulsated through her body. She desperately wanted someone to hold, someone to reassure her that all the ghosts would go away, but no one was there, not Jack not Ethan; she was completely alone. She tiptoed about the house to her bedroom ready to light the fire and force the demons out into the cold.

She wasn't quite sure why she felt the need to tiptoe about. It wasn't as if she was creeping about into someone else's house. Still, she had a feeling in the pit of her stomach that she had done something awfully deceitful. But she really hadn't done anything wrong; all she did was have afternoon coffee with Mr. Dolton, a simple, innocent event that had no consequences. Still, she was charmed by his good looks, witty humor, and the fact that he was single. No, she thought, I cannot do this to Jack, it wouldn't be right. She wasn't even sure why she felt so eager to please Jack though, she didn't even love him. Yet since moving into this house with him, she had been having different thoughts about him, pleasant ones that were beginning to lose their cynicism. She kept trying to push the images out of her mind, but some outside force seemed to tell her otherwise, as if the sheer atmosphere of the house said, iYou know you want him. You know you need him./i She was getting exhausted by this continuous cycle of yes and no, and wasn't sure what to do. For the most part, her spirit wanted to reach out to Ethan, but a tiny piece of her soul that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere told her to remain with Jack.

In a flash, the door was opened by Jack, sending Mattie into a scare like a child realizing he was caught with the stolen goods. Once she realized it was only Jack and not an element of the unknown, she quickly collected herself and straightened up, brushing off the front of her dress.

"You're home early ain't ya?" she asked in a monotone voice. She quickly retrieved the broom and began dusting as if she had been cleaning all day, attempting to control the tension that kept her throat tightened.

"There was only an amputation needed for today," he said calmly. His expression suddenly changed to a sadder one. "Seems people would rather die than spend their money for surgery," he said with seemingly forced relaxation. An awful awkwardness filled the air; Mattie hiding her little excursion with a certain Mr. Dolton and Jack hiding his encounter with Tobias only minutes earlier. They stared at each other for several seconds, twiddling their thumbs or scuffing their feet against the wood floor. After some time, they simply turned from each other and retrieved to separate rooms, Jack ascending the steps into the barber shop, and Mattie into the bake house, hoping to retreat as far away from each other as possible. The awkwardness between the two was simply too much.

The quiet creaking of the stairs into the barber shop seemed to welcome steps once again, steps that it was getting accustomed to feeling after 40 years of the absence of the feeling of feet against it. The sound of Jack's feet seemed ordinary, but as he neared the old barber shop, he began to notice a certain eeriness about the stairs. Their sound at first seemed commonplace, but soon sounded as if they were straining a secret, something sinister hidden under a smile. The barren room seemed too big, as if it was holding capacity to a large monster. The atmosphere was a cage containing a barrage of emotions, lost souls, and mysteries. When Jack first stepped inside this shop, he felt incredibly uncomfortable by its spooky atmosphere, but after visiting it several times, it seemed much more enticing, an unknown force that seemed to warm him up and calm him down to its ancient feeling. Echoes sounded through his head, sounds that seemed to have no defined sound, as if the ghosts of words once said.

Jack looked out of the large window pane into the London streets below, wondering about all the people who must have once passed through Fleet Street. Supposedly, it was once a bustling business avenue with most of Londons local newspapers, famous restaurants, and a great museum. Now, all that was once left of the once colorful lane was dark shadows that clouded the past as thickly as the fog that still filled the air. He heard no sounds from the world outside, so he only listened to the undefined rings of sound that reverberated through the room. He moved towards the great barbers chair and sat down in it, letting the thick plush to swallow him up. He closed his eyes, straining to listen to the whispers of the walls. He picked up what they seemed to say after several minutes of drifting through his open mind. Shape began to form in these echoes, and he soon heard the rooms story, one of hate, loss, revenge, want, and underneath it all in a dull tick, love.

_Lucy..._

Jack jumped; swearing by his sisters grave that he heard a voice. A deep, gruff sound, like a wolf, that hoarsely whispered out a name of a woman he'd never heard of. As if out of nowhere, the echoes decided to form into a definite shape, something which Jack didn't expect. The echoes changed, they formed an eerie melting sound, as if the room was slowly dripping off the walls. The sounds formed unworldly music, descending into the mind of all the unseen.

Jack fell into the mind of another, he was rushed into a slide of a scene that appeared before his eyes, as if he was there watching the scene unfold in the present time. The weather was calm, warm, and comforting. Bright colors sprinkled throughout the scene in the forms of pretty tulips, roses, carnations, and lilies in a flower shop. The sweet smelling air filled his nostrils, sending the shop farther and farther towards reality. A couple and their baby daughter entered the scene. He immediately recognized the woman and child from the pictures in the shop above. The other man was unidentifiable, but he could only assume that it was Sweeney Todd, no Benjamin Barker. The man looked so kind, so collected, and so sweet. This man couldn't possibly be a serial murderer, could he? Mr. Barker placed a doll near Johannas face, playing with her and making cooing sounds. There was such a peace that flowed as water through the shop, such serenity that London didn't seem to posses any longer, and Jack let the feeling flood his soul. He turned his face to the sky and closed his eyes, basking the warmth of the sun that didn't come out any longer. He turned his attention back to the happy couple and their daughter, laughing a sweet sounding giggle that only a child could make.

Movement caught him out of the corner of his eye, and he saw another man, standing in the shadows out of the sunlight that reflected off of Lucy's shining hair, ribbons of light cascading down her back. The Other stared at her, sinking the image of her hair and her skin in his bottomless eyes. Lust was pouring into the pit, not filling it, but still rushing into it. Another man, one who was pudgy and stout with a black top hat and a jacket made of what looked like iguana skin, was being whispered to by the Other. Jack could not hear what words they exchanged, and neither did the couple, for they took no notice of the conspiring two. The plump man gestured to unseen men behind him, and two constables appeared from behind the wall and approached the couple, still focusing their attention on Johanna. Out of nowhere, the taller officer sprung out his baton and bludgeoned Benjamin Barker on the back of his skull, a loud crack shouted as the wood came in contact with bone. Mr. Barker collapsed, falling into the policeman arms and was instantly dragged away. Lucy clutched her daughter, unable to move or speak or do anything to help him. She felt herself collapse, only to be helped by the Other, staring at her like a panther on his prey. Mr. Barker disappeared out of sight into a carriage black as night and around the corner. Jack felt weak as he watched this ghastly scene live before his eyes, and felt ready to collapse out of sheer horror of the injustice he witnessed.

The scene grew cloudy, melting into a state of pure nothingness. The faces of Lucy and the Other Man faded until not even their outlines could be distinguished. The images faded, leaving him in a foggy daze until Jacks eyes grew clear once more, morphing back into the barber shop, where he was seated in the stained chair. He looked around, noticing no changes in the dismal room. The fog outside was beginning to clear as the last of the afternoon sun fell behind the smoggy horizon. How long had he had been out cold in this hallucination? Judging from the sun, he supposed that he had been drifting in his open mind for at least an hour.

Jack was filled with nostalgia, even though the sequences of events that he witnessed were not from his personal past. He still felt for Benjamin, and especially Lucy, the look on her face burned into his mind. But how had he been filled with these tormenting memories? Surly he must have fallen asleep, and merely dreamed of the woman in the photographs. But no, he was sure that he had heard that voice, that inhuman voice that was like the gruff of a bear or a wolf. Still, he could not deny the grim feelings that flooded his soul. The shocked look of Lucy was pinned inside his skull, behind his eyes, preventing him from seeing anything else. How could humanity be so cruel, so unfeeling? The longer he sat, the angrier and more hateful he felt towards the two unknown men that so viciously removed the barber away. He pounded his foot into the floor and grunted. He couldn't take sitting and thinking anymore, so he removed himself from the awful monster and paced back and forth. The floor welcomed the familiar sound that pounded the wood once again.

* * *

Mattie retreated to the bake house with a lighted lantern after her sufficiently awkward encounter with her husband. It was the strangest thing, as if they were trying unsuccessfully to hide a secret from each other. The only thing she could think of doing to remove herself from the situation was retreat to the farthest possible point away from Jack, and from the footsteps she heard behind her, Jack thought the same thing. The bake house still smelled of a mutilated carcass, and she pinched her nose. The flickering flame of the lantern burned light upon the old bake oven, rusting in the circumcenter of the room, begging to be relit. She hesitated for a while, wondering whether she should try to light the beast, hoping it would be able to shed more light upon the creepy room, which was as black as the pit of death. She tiptoed towards the monstrous heap of metal, and unlocked its door. She quickly realized the majority of the smell in the basement was not from the sewers, but from this very bake oven. Was this oven once belonging to a cremator in a morgue? The ironic thought crossed her head that this once _was_ a morgue, preparing the dead for better purposes. Only instead of their purpose to be a place of remembrance, it prepared them for consumption.

She spotted the fuel switch by the base of the bake oven and turned it, just to see if it would cooperate. Surprisingly, it did, and she immediately smelled kerosene emitted into the air. Without thinking, she threw the lantern into the bake oven, perhaps out of shock or lack of preparation. She knew that such a large amount of kerosene could poison her quickly, and she needed the lantern's flames to satisfy it. The oven immediately engendered great, all consuming flames that immediately brought a light that flooded the room like the blood that covered the floor. It wasn't until now that she realized just how large the dried pool of blood was, with great imprints of the dead that deformed its otherwise even coating. She spotted her footprints from where she first discovered the spread of the once red, sticky goo. She saw above her head the trap door, and below it, a pool of blood far more imperfect than the one she had stepped in. She stared into the flames, feeling their uneasy warmth throughout the room, the light brightening her eyes.

_Love, wait..._

Before Mattie had time to react the obvious sultry voice, the walls fell away from the earth, and she floated on a sea of the past, until the walls of the barber shop closed around her. She had not yet been in this room before, but she knew that Jack had been in it a few times. In the scene that lay before her, she saw a woman with the wildest curly hair she had ever seen. She was dressed in an intricately decorated black gown and boots, and a man with hair like a nest of black wire. A great white streak boldly stood out of place on his thicket of hair. The woman was seated in a freshly polished, bright red plush arm chair, and the man was facing the window, eerily eying his straight razor that he held in his hands, stropping it in agitation.

"Why doesn't the Beadle come? Before the week is out, that's what he said," the man said with an impatient tone of voice.

"So who says the weeks out? It's only Tuesday," said the woman in a soothing, slightly seductive voice. Their voices seemed solid and real, yet had an airy quality about them that seemed distant, like a dream. Without warning, Mattie witnessed an unusual event that seemed only reserved for fantasies that she had a little girl: The woman began to sing, a song that she seemed to create out of herself at that moment in time. Music was something Mattie enjoyed, but even when playing the piano, she felt that music couldn't be heard outside of an instrument, as if the real world wanted nothing to do with it. The presence of the ethereal music soothed her, so she reluctantly welcomed the song that seemed to pour into existance for all the world to hear. Now, Mattie had never seen someone sing a song on the spot like that, but she enjoyed the organic, pure quality of it. She listened to the womans song, one of patience, calmness, and serenity. It reminded Mattie of a lullaby, and she felt a sense of devotion, or whatever it was this woman in the scene was feeling. But no matter what, it seemed that the woman could not reach the through the man's impatient barrier that separated him from the rest of the world. She touched the man's shoulder, but he didn't budge, nor turn from his razor to even look at her profile. Mattie felt want, love, and desperation in the woman's eyes, attempting to breka free and fall upon the man's deaf ears. Before she could contemplate what she saw, she was pulled away from the scene, the faces of the two fading in the distance as the bake house reformed in her eyes.

She returned to the bake house, realizing that she had collapsed against the cold stone floor. She lifted herself off of the floor and dusted off her skirt. Mattie wasn't frightened by what she'd just witnessed, but only touched by it. Mattie had never known of such devotion as what she saw in the woman's eye. It was then that she realized that she had no devotion like that in her life, not for Jack, or anybody for that matter. She walked out of the bake house and up the stairs to write a letter to a Mr. Dolton requesting tea at the house tomorrow.


	6. Prophecy

**Two chapters in one day?? Wow, didn't think it was possible. I've forgotten to say my disclaimer of not owning Sweeney Todd in the past few chapters, but I think it's a pointless thing anyway. So I have to keep doing it, even if I don't want to.**

**Goodie of the Day from your Obediant Humble Servant: creme brulee!**

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**One Month Later**

Ethan looked into Mattie's chocolate eyes, studying her gleaming, caressing look. She smiled, and pulled Ethan close. In their previous meetings, which often occurred three times a week, she was always Miss Mattie Crawford, and she was slowly falling past this mask and felt more and more single as the days pressed on. Jack continued to have nightmares of murder and heartbreak, and his happy face was disappearing, making him distant and moody. He was speeking less and less to her, and as he grew ever more distant, she grew ever closer to Ethan. It wasn't until last week, however, that she expressed her feelings to Ethan that she wanted to be more than a friend. She drew her lips close to his breath, and their lips touched as a saint's hands do in prayer: softly, gently, and soaking up every feeling. Their lips continued to caress each others, and she ran her ringless left hand through his hair; she only wore her wedding ring now whenever Jack was home or around her, which was shrinking in amount of time. Slowly, the holy palmers kiss grew into a fit of passion. They were no longer caressing, but pressing, and their bodies were now in complete contact. He nipped her lower lip, begging for entrance, which she gladly accepted. She never recalled ever kissing Jack in such a way, never as deeply or as passionately. In fact, most of the time she simply acquiesced to his slight pecks. Those days were gone, left behind was simple hellos, goodbyes, and idle small talk. As she kissed Ethan in her fervor, she felt a slight nostalgia for the old, giddy, and naive Jack, who would never leave the house without pouring his heart full of love out for her.

Ethan brought Mattie to his couch, lying down on top of her, holding her waist in one hand and caressing her cheek with the other. Her skirt was being lifted ever so higher, an unseen demon begging him to dare to go there. But she reached out her hand and grabbed his off of her skirt.

"You're not getting lucky tonight, Mr. Dolton. I'll save myself for marriage thank you very much." That was the one decent thing that she was doing for Jack in this affair; she refused to go as far as sleep with Ethan. Even she would refuse to stoop that low. She just might if she didn't have this nagging voice inside her head that lead her mind and feelings towards Jack. She never felt remotely attracted to Jack physically or mentally until they were married. Unusually though, these didn't seem to be her personally coughed up feelings, but almost forced into her head, and whenever she was with Ethan, the voice would say, "You know you want Jack." Mattie wasn't sure what to think anymore. More and more frequently she was having dreams or sudden visions of the past, usually involving the presumed Mrs. Lovett in pursuit of the inattentive presumed Sweeney Todd. The most recent was a vision of the two by the sea, dressed in their bathing suits and looking out into the sunset. The humerous sight of them made Mattie laugh, turning this dream into a happy one. All of the dreams had a song of some kind that seemed to have been blown in from the wind, organically produced from the two right then and there.

Ethan sighed, and removed himself off of her body and retreated in his pantry to pour himself a glass of gin. Ethan sure was one who liked his drink. He seemed like a wonderfully charming, funny, and intelligent man. Still, Mattie had supposed he had been single for quite sometime, as he seemed like an impatient man. Every time their romantic encounters occurred, it was obvious that he thirsted for more. Mattie knew just what he coveted, but was in no way going to let him satisfy his hunger. Ethan said nothing to her as he drank his plentiful glass, so Mattie grabbed her bag and hat, ready to leave since Jack was deemed to return home soon.

"I 'spose I'll see you on the morrow," she said smiling. He stopped drinking, smiled at her, chuckled, and reached out for a hug.

"Of course, darling, on the morrow," and with that, he left her with a goodbye kiss that smelt of alcohol. She smiled flirtatiously at him as she opened the door to his flat and departed down the street back to 183rd Fleet Street. The morning afternoon was chilly yet clear, the air as still as the inside of Ethan's house. She had to blink twice to remind herself that she was actually outside.

Once she was back inside her house, she retreated to her favorite plush chair, which she felt attached to upon first seeing it in the house. It seemed familiar and cozy, and it immediately became her favorite resting place. She lit the fire to warm the room and reached for a copy of iWar and Peace/i, which she had been attempting to finish since buying it three months ago. Time ticked away as she flipped the pages, the delicate smell of paper calming her. She felt tired, and her eyes blinked to stay open. She was just about to flutter her eyes to a siesta when she spotted movement out of the corner of her eye. She assumed it was Jack returning from work, but remembered that she never heard him come in. The eerie that she was being watched hovered delicately over her, but she saw that she was the only soul in sight. She sighed and turned her head back around.

"You shouldn't be doin' this to Jack, love." Mattie nearly flew out of the chair upon hearing the voice, and gave a small cry seeing that the voice had a body attached to it. It was a woman, the same woman that had been haunting her dreams. She wore a corset dress in gothic black and white stripes that gave her the appearance of licorice taffy. Her penetrating eyes burned through Mattie, as if they saw through her very soul.

"Mrs. Lovett," Mattie said quietly, still letting the idea that the woman could be here, standing in this very room and speaking to her.

"Yea, 'nd your in me seat love," she said. Mattie removed herself from the chair as if commanded by a threatening general. Mrs. Lovett seemed to take great effort to sit in the chair, but once she did, tension melted off of her shoulders.

"Why are you wit' Ethan love? You want Jack, you need 'im," she said, glaring into her skull. The words were more of a demand, a scolding rather than comforting advise. Mattie attempted to speak, but no words were able to form on her tongue. Was this real, or had she fallen asleep in the chair? She reached out and touched Mrs. Lovett's skin that was as pale as pearls. The skin was definitely real, but not of like anything shed ever felt. It was neither warm nor cold; it simply was, whatever it was. Finally, she was able to morph her thoughts into comprehensible words.

"Wha-wha do you want?" she stuttered, realizing that these probably weren't the best words to say right then.

"Stay wit' Jack, love. That Ethan'll be the death of you. Feel Jack, how is skin is warm in your hand. Sink in 'is love, feel it fill you and warm you as sunlight warms the soul," she whispered. Mrs. Lovett spoke in a voice that was comforting yet haunting, giving the impression of the voice that was slipping, dying. The ghost stood up and stared at her, her expression stoic.

"I say to you, love, tha' Ethan is your tragic flaw, 'n only torment will you suffer wit 'im," the voice said, fading into the setting sun. He neck twitched, as did the rest of her body in a slight sporadic way. She suddenly stiffened, and a look of shock formed on her face. Eyes wide, unbelieving yet knowing, stared at Mattie as the strange smell of burning cloth filled the air. Her dress began to blacken quickly around its hem, until the scorch crawled up the rest of the dress with no apparent pattern. There was no fire, no smoke, only incinerating clothes. A new smell accompanied the burning cloth, and Mattie realized it was Mrs. Lovett's hair, turning to ash as the invisible flame comsumed it. Finally, she could see her skin begin to blacken. Mrs. Lovett did not scream; she only kept the look of shock upon her face as her skin torched and flaked. Mattie cupped her mouth to repress the urge to scream, but when Mrs. Lovett's eyes themselves were being smoldered, she couldn't help herself. Watching this woman die before her, or at least appear dying, made her cry out all of the repressed emotion that had molded to a block in her pit. She couldn't watch, yet couldn't look away as the body of Mrs. Lovett turned to ash in front of her. Mattie closed her eyes, hoping this nightmare would close. When she opened her eyes, Mrs. Lovett was gone, not a drop of ash was on the carpet, and the room was as warm and still as ever, not a trace of the smell of immolating flesh lingered. Mattie had to drown her feelings of suicide at that very moment; the torment of the scene was too great for her to bear. She collapsed on the floor, sobbing. Mrs. Lovett found her place among the ashes on her death bed, by Sweeney. Mattie had never been told us, in fact, no one other than Sweeney knew this fact, but Mrs. Lovett's stare told Mattie the horror of her unfathomable end.

"Why?" she cried, unable to control her tears. "Why did you love 'im, even after what he did to you?! Why should I love Jack? Would it even matter?" she shouted to the empty night, which returned only silence to her. She hugged the carpet, begging for comfort from something. When she finally calmed down, the night felt the need to comfort her. She heard a soft voice, the wind blowing into her ear in the form of words, in the form of a song.

"Better to have loved than never loved at all. Better to have dreamed than never taken the fall. Better to have held him and let him in, than never to have touched his skin. Better to have hurt and screamed and cried, fallen to the earth for a trip to the sky. Better to have loved him. I knew all the time I was taking a chance when I'd stand there at the edge of the cliff and no one was holding my hand. Well the wind blew strong and the clouds rolled in, and I felt us lift off the ground. Yes, I bared my soul and I dared to go knowing one day he might let me down," the voice cooed.

Mattie listened with great interest, calming down by the sweet, inviting voice that sang the song. She felt Mrs. Lovett's pain and suffering all for a devotion that wasn't returned. Somehow, though, she felt it was worth it, no matter how Sweeney changed or how many moons came and went. She longed for such devotion, such love and care that she no longer felt, not in Jack, in Ethan, not anybody. She saw how lost her life was, and realized what she needed to do. In the meantime, the couch was all she wanted.

She forced herself off the comfort to the floor and felt incredibly exposed to her surroundings. She scuffled towards the bed couch, hoping for one night of peace. She was almost there when the familiar brass bell ringed, signaling Jacks return from work. Mattie didnt twitch; she no longer believed anything worldly could cause her any fright, even though there is always something to fear in Whitechapel. She ran over to Jack with arms wide open and hugged him tightly, begging for a hint of comfort from another living human. He hugged her back, taken surprised but feeling a glitter of happiness that held him as he embraced her. She cried quietly in his arms as he patted her back. Only a month before, such an encasement of want would have filled him with all the happiness in the world. Now, it brought only fragment of what he should be feeling.

"What's wrong dear?" he said with little feeling his voice. Mattie looked into eyes that seemed to grow darker and darker as the days wore on, and the connection from her gaze and his was beginning to fade to black ever so slowly.

"Nothing, Jack. I-I just needed someone to hold. I'm so lonely here.

"You need rest darling, go to bed."

"Oh, Jack!" she kissed him softly on his lips. "I shall so, I need it. I need to clear me mind 'nyway. And with that, she darted promptly to the bedroom to plop down on the bed. Jack was confused by this sudden act of love that radiated from her. The nightmare of him murdering countless, faceless individuals haunted him, and made him crave blood. He hoped avoiding his wife would help him hold back his emotions, which he never wanted to be revealed to her. He walked up the wooden staircase to clear his mind, which was clouded with questions.

The barber shop was as familiar to him as the hair on his head. He spent much of his time here, questioning his thoughts, beliefs, and even his own self. The nightmares that plagued his mind made him change his perception of the world. Had his naive eyes always been blinded from the cruelty of men, and the insanity of the world? He searched into the corners of his mind often now, questioning his purpose upon this earth, and whether he could be trusted anymore.

He paced back and forth, asking these questions in his mind for several minutes. He stopped pacing and faced the window, hoping that the streets of London would bring him and answer that he was looking for, but all he saw was the grey and dismal washed out buildings that gave no answer. There was no longer sunlight, only dark, suppressive shadows. He turned his attention to the cracked mirror in the corner of the room, hoping his reflection would provide and answer. What he saw made him blink twice. He'd seen his reflection in this mirror several times, but he had never paid much attention to it. He saw that most of his foolish happiness was replaced with lines of stress and confusion. His eyes were darker and less inviting than he remembered them being. He found them filled with far more expression though, not just empty calories of giddyness. They spoke of want, loss, and torment when his mouth couldn't speak such thoughts. They were deep abysses filled with memories that weren't his, with thoughts put into his head against his own accord. He wondered briefly if he was loosing his mind.

Suddenly, in the broken image of the mirror, he spotted movement in his peripheral vision. He turned suddenly, only to loose his balance by what he saw. Slouching in the blood soaked barbers chair was none other than Mr. Sweeney Todd himself, or at least, his apparition. He was everything that Jack saw in his night frights, only now that he was staring at him in the flesh made the horror of his face all too clear. His face was far paler, his eyes far more hating, and his hair all the more scattered about. He smiled a grin that was more than a smirk, but a sly grin that was filled with an evil that seemed too great for any one man to hold. He held an open razor firmly in his right hand, spinning the blade in his loose fist.

"Hello, Jack," he said in his low gruff, causing Jack to collapse one his knees and cover his neck for protection. He could only gaze with panic at the murderous figure that sat before him. When he looked more closely at him, though, he saw something else: pain, torment, loss? It was difficult to tell, it seemed to be concealed under his first impressional appearance "You shouldn't feel sorry for her. It's not wise to care for someone like her, someone who has never seen the face of tragedy," he said. His statement had several layers that eventually peeled away to Jack. Sweeney first seemed stoic, unfeeling. But he soon saw that his words were honest, coming from past pain and suffering. The man rose from the chair and wielding the same razor that was in the box from the credenza in his holster. It's shine caused the room to fill with its sinful light.

"She needs me, and I think I should be there for her. Do you dare me to abandon her?" Jack said weakly and with horribly masked insecurity.

"I never said abandon. It's best to ignore her, belive me. The years have taught me not to think foolishly like you do." As he said this, a distant expression barely etched into his face, as if he was staring as far ahead as possible. "I've learned that love only brings hate, only torment..." he suddenly snapped back to his original mirthful expression that sent Jack a shiver. "So don't be fooled by her Jack," he said advancing toward him with that same smirk that formed on his face. "She'll only stop your path to what you want."

"I don't even know what I want, how could you possibly know my thoughts?" Jack said defensively.

"Because, Jack, I iam/i your thoughts. I'm the nightmares you dream, I'm the song that you sing, and you know I'm right. Don't be a fool, Jack, for fool's lives end, but the clever live forever," he growled. "I know that you want answers, you want meaning to your existance, you want knowledge. Your little woman's devotion will only stop you. Her kind of love takes away from what really matters to you." By now, Sweeney was only inches from Jacks cowardly face. "But before your journey ends, I ask of you one simple favor."

"What could I possibly do for you, you despicable monster?" Jack said hoarsely in an attempt to make himself braver than he actually felt.

"Avenge me." The words were simple, but the way in which they were said had such an impact upon Jack that he quaked in his boots. Sweeneys expression suddenly changed; no longer was it harsh and unloving. It was a look of something far more moving than that. It was if he was looking into the distant past, his face full of hopelessness and longing for mercy. He saw death and the welcome of death in his eyes. Slowly, a thin pink line traced itself around Sweeney's neck. It first appeared as a thin scar, a mere scratch upon his flesh, but soon evolved, becoming deeper and redder, fresh and ready. Suddenly and without warning, blood spurted from his jugular and arteries, spewing out onto Jacks hands, staining them with Sweeney's wants and desires. No sound of struggle for breath was made, but the sight caused Jack to feel sick with horror and disgust. He closed his eyes, hoping and praying that the apparition would leave him. The spewing sound of still pumping blood was welcomed with thick drops on the wooden floor, which Jack could hear but dared not to see. Just as suddenly as it happened, the drips stopped. He blinked his reluctant eyes open, and saw that his wish was granted; Sweeney departed from his sight, leaving only the rundown furniture and the empty spaces of the room.

The rooms ghosts seemed to have quieted briefly, but didn't leave Jack for long. Ticks in his mind scratched the surface of his thoughts. He rushed to the shattered mirror hoping that his reflection would bring him back to sanity. His reflection seemed real enough; it moved with him and quivered like him. The face, however, wouldn't cooperate. It wanted only to grin against his will, to curl its lips with unkindly prudence. Nothing said it, but he knew that his smile was not his own. Its hateful expression told him, compelled him to murder. Jack was not told by any voice, but the devilish grin that he saw upon the mirror whispered the name Tobias Ragg into his mind. But could he do it? Jack wouldn't, but Sweeney would, gladly and with only blood to stain his hands and no regret to fill his mind.

"You could, you should, you must," the lips formed words, speaking in the familiar growl that beleaguered his mind constantly. Was it just the mirror speaking, or were his own lips moving against his will? Jacks mind was jumping back and forth from his own thoughts to those of Sweeney, who was fully present in his mind as was Jack's own soul. Thoughts of murder, Mattie, razors, blood, and love pounded his unwanting brain. He saw himself murdering man after man after man, slashing the throat of anyone who so much as stood in front of him. He couldn't believe that his thoughts could be so cruel. He pressed his hands to his temple and cried, "No! I will not kill like you, Sweeney! I refuse to murder like you did. I hear them, all of them, the men whose blood calls out to me from the ground, I see them, and I feel them!" The pounding quieted, but Jack heard a small voice that came and went subtly, _Predicting your actions...so foolish of you..._


	7. Home

**Hello again! Thanks to all the viewers for reading, as always. The song in this is "Once" from the movie...Once. If you haven't seen it, you should. It's a really good music movie for you indie lovers out there. Goodie of the Day: ice cream sandwich**

**Disclaimer: you know the drill, unless you're very inattentive**

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Jack was starting to wish the world away, and in his time he wept for yesterday. Between his doctorial practices and his meals, he spent the more time than ever in the shoddy barber shop, forgetting who he was in the dark of the night. He was beginning to lose his conversations all together with Mattie. There was no longer silence in the corners of the room or his mind, but now he heard the tunes of trumpets, drums, cellos, and guitars. He always heard eerie music now, songs of death and love and loss and hate, and he learned those songs and hummed them to his reflection often. He heard this music that no one else heard whenever he was alone, but their comfort quickly left him whenever he was in the presence of Mattie. He had longed questioned her intentions, which as time passed seemed to be ones to hinder him. He longed for the quiet music in his head that was lost with Mattie's company. He was uncertain of his dismal future, but the music whispered to him that Mattie shouldn't be any part of it.

Despite her best attempts, she often received little more than a nod from him, and when she would visit him in the shop above, he simply stared at the window, paying no attention to her. If she brought him food or drink or any other means of comfort, he didn't touch it until Mattie had left the room, allowing the sweet sounds to fill him again, giving him comfort that was far greater than any peace of meat upon a platter that was touched by Mattie's filthy hands. Her relationship with Ethan Dolton continued, unbeknownst to Jack, although even if he did know, it is doubtful that he would have cared. Her devotion to Jack was increasing, leaving her in twisted confusion between him and Ethan. Ethan gave her a sensation of passion and love, yet Jack gave her a want that could not be suppressed. She desperately tried to break the barrier that was thickening between them, leaving her outside his isolated bubble. Neither words nor touch could pass through the line that was between the fantasies in his mind and the reality of Matties actions, and this left Jack alone in a depression of dreams and Mattie in a matrix of hope.

Mattie was hearing the effects of music too. Her once silent world was now sweeping with violins, piano, flutes, and harp strings that swayed to the beat of life. The melodies that only she heard were also ones of love, loss, death and hate, but they carried different meaning, reflecting her thoughts in a slightly more positive way. The spoke of devotion and want overcoming lost love, death, and hate from another, while Jack heard chants that filled him with resentment of the condition of the human race.

Sweeney and Nellie continued to make occasional personal visits to Jack and Mattie, though both never really left them alone, always making sure that they both received and understood the messages that they were given. Mattie was constantly told by Nellie to end her relationship with Ethan and stay with Jack; Sweeney always reminded Jack of Tobias, and the plan of assassination. Both were taking their tolls on the couple in body, mind, and spirit. They no longer possessed any golden glow in their skins, only pale, lifeless pigment that coated them like white paint. Their hair fell into disarray: Mattie no longer had cute little ringlets but a curly thicket that gave the appearance of a birds nest. Jacks neat waves now had scattered flyaways, and had not been combed in days. Their views of life were beginning to completely transform; Jack no longer looked upon the human race with hope, but with disgust and rage, and Mattie no longer saw the need to be independent, but realized that she needed someone constantly. Their spirits were fragments of what they once were, shattered by despair and hopelessness.

One particular Wednesday when Jack didn't have work, Mattie attempted to bring him outside the house, luring him to go see a comedic play with her. They attempted to make themselves look presentable, but their appearances had long fallen in disarray. Even after washing up, combing their hair, and putting on fresh clothing, they were still a ghastly sight to behold, even by London's standards. Their dark clothing and skin as pale as sin couldn't have been more contrasting, and they were reminiscent of zebras. It had been over two months since they had been together this long, and Mattie soaked up every minute of it, dwelling in Jacks presence as best as she could. But no matter how tight she held on to his arm, his focus was on the disgusting streets of London. It amazed him just how many prostitutes and drug dealers were diffused throughout the streets, as if there wasn't one bit of decent work left in this world. There they stood, waiting for their sinful jobs to pick up, which usually only really did late at night. So there they were, groping in their own misery and filthy clothing. Jack glared at them with ill contempt, the hate in his eyes burning a hole through their souls. They looked at him too, and shrank back slightly upon beholding the look that rested on his face.

"They all deserve to die," he whispered to himself.

"Hmm, wha'd you say?" Mattie asked, hoping that he didn't say what she thought she heard.

"Oh, nothing darling, I didn't say anything." She grunted, not pleased with his dishonest response. He walked with Mattie, having grave images about taking care of those filthy whores that dotted the streets, sending them to places where not even the crows could land their droppings on them. It would clean up the city and decrease the surplus population. Mattie noticed the grim expression on his face and traced his eyes to one particular woman that sat on a grimy stoop on the corner of the street. The sight was ungainly, but Mattie couldn't help but notice the malicious look upon Jack's face and felt perturbed. She was beginning to notice that Jack's personality was turning from depressed to something darker and more vicious. She tired to brush the image of his evil grin out of her thoughts as they approached the playhouse.

As Mattie had hoped, the play they saw was humerous and even Jack seemed to enjoy its sarcastic and clever wit. She felt a slight glimmer of the old Jack, glowing like a tiny flame flickering in the darkness. Still, she feared that its fuel source was slowly decreasing, ready to be consumed by the darkness at any point. She hoped that perhaps the extra chores and the little acts of kindness that she showed towards him would add to the dying glimmer of hope. This one precious day raised her spirits and hopes, as if time was going in reverse instead of forward. As they walked home arm in arm, a smile was traced upon her face that lasted all the way home.

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A tap on the door signaled Ethan's arrival, and Mattie took one quick second in the mirror to guzzy up before she greeted him at the door with a kiss. They still made their tri-weekly visits much to her liking, though the feeling behind them became different than she remembered them being. She still took pleasure in his visits, but she was being revealed Ethan's true personality. He was likeable enough with his good looks, humor, care, and kiss, yet she was learning that he was also impatient, drank more often than needed, and slightly selfish. As her devotion to Jack increased, she began to notice these unlikable traits of Ethan more and more. It didn't help that Mrs. Lovett often visited her after their visits, often scolding her saying, "I told you to leave him, tha' he'll be the end 'o you." She tried her best to ignore her annoying lectures, but simply couldnt force her messages out of her mind. His greeting kiss perked her up, but never gave her the swooping emotion that she used to feel. She gave him a hug and let him inside the house. She poured him a glass of Earl Grey tea over a deep discussion of the nature of humanity. When they first met, they talked idly about silly things such as weather and politics, but as Mattie's personality darkened, their talks drew deeper and darker.

"What about, evil per say?" said Ethan in a bored tone, responding to her topic about the stain of the human condition. He wasn't too bothered by the discussions that she brought up, but he felt as if Mattie was just dragging down the day when they could be having good company and a fun time.

"I'm jus' saying, I think tha' evil is jus a state o' mind, 'n tha one is only evil if one believes tha' they are 'spose to be maleviolent. I don't know, wha' do you think?"

"Oh, I don't know, I 'spose that evil comes from wha' you experience, wha' you learn from the world," he said sipping his tea.

"Or perhaps it's something one always has 'ad that don't come out 'til the proper time," she said.

"You know, I don't think I'm in tha' mood for deep talk. Can't we do sumthin' more fun?" he said playfully. Mattie sighed, but gave a flirty smile in return. She got up from the table and gave Ethan a deep kiss. She felt his lips with great acceptance, forgetting all of her troubles for this one instant. In this one moment, she felt at place, like she was loved with a love that she no longer felt with Jack. The kiss grew more passionate, and in a fervor, she pressed herself against him. The sounds of the world softened, until all he could hear was the ruffle of their clothes and the moaning of his breath.

"I'd watch out if I were you," said Mrs. Lovett's voice. Mattie pulled away suddenly, causing Ethan to be disgruntled. She should have known that Mrs. Lovett would try something like this. Ethan didn't seem to hear the voice and therefore was agitated by the abrupt ending of their moment of passion. But just at that moment, Jack came in unexpectedly with a loud bang through the door. Mattie gave a silent thank you to Mrs. Lovett's heedful warning. Jack looked at Ethan, with slight confusion in his face, which was reflected off of Ethan's with equal intensity.

"Um, Ethan, thanks for stoppin' by, I guess I'll write soon," she said, scooting him out of the door as discreetly as she possibly could, though she was failing gloriously. She pushed Ethan out the door and closed it, nudging her head to the right as his signal to leave. He walked out of sight reluctantly, still confused over what had just happened. She turned to Jack, who was just as filled with questions as Ethan was.

"You-you're home awful early," Mattie said not letting her eyes off the floor boards. She began to pretend to remove a hair off of her sleeve.

"The hospital said I could leave early today," he said in a monotone voice. Awkwardness and uneasiness suffocated the room like a thick paste.

"Um, who was that, Mattie?" he asked.

"Oh, he was Ethan. He's an old friend tha' came to visit," she said as calmly as she could in a hope to cover her embarrassment. He decided that he didn't want to ask any more questions. He turned away from Mattie slowly and scuffled up the stairs to the barber shop. Once he was out of her sight, she buried her face in her hands, not even believing herself just how stupid she was, how close she was caught to being caught. Was any of this worth something anymore? she wondered. After a few minutes to herself she walked up the stairs after Jack.

Inside the room which supported the weight of the world sat Jack in the barber chair, holding an open razor in his right hand and examining its shine and his reflection closely. She approached him wearily, fearing the worst. She outstretched her right hand to slowly, cautiously touch his right shoulder. He didn't speak; he only stared at the silver blade.

"Jack, nothing happened-"

"How was your day today?" Jack asked in his usual voice, painfully trying to cover his suspicions. Mattie felt a great weight lift off of her shoulders. So maybe he didn't suspect anything, and he was just being himself.

"Well, Ethan came over. He's a friend you see," she said calmly. She wanted to slap her self for sounding so fack, but Jack didn't seem to notice. He simply grunted in return but didn't speak any words in response. There was a veil of silence that placed a barrier of silence between the two, even though their faces were nearly touching. The only sound that could be heard was their heavy breathing, slowly filling their ears with desperation. Her near obsession with this unrequited love tormented Mattie beyond words. She wanted to hold him, touch him, and kiss his softly. Her heart poured out to him silently, but she felt no returning vibe, no response in his breathing or behavior. Why had he fallen out of himself? What had changed? Finally, Mattie decided to untie her lips.

"Jack?" she asked. He grunted in recognition.

"Do-do you still love me?" It took her great difficulty to ask this question, but it was one that she had been dying to ask for what seemed like ages. Thinking all of a sudden, she realized that she couldn't remember the last time he uttered the words I love you to her. He turned his face from the razor and pierced her eyes with his black ones. He slowly stood up and walked towards the broken reflective glass and stared at Mattie and his broken images.

"You'll never know how much those words have haunted me," he said. She looked at him confused. "With everything, all of these ideas I've been opened up to...I just can't anymore," he said sadly.

"Wha' are you talkin about?" she said with a quivering lip. But the question didn't have a simple answer, and nothing Jack could think of seemed to fit. His mind was crowded out; no room was left with a decent answer to reply to her. He thought to himself for a few minutes, and in his blocked thoughts, music formed in his head. This was the first time he'd ever hear its sweet music in Matties presence, and he wasn't sure why it chose to appear at this very instant. Mattie looked her eyes around as the sound of a soothing guitar filled her mind as well. The music never haunted her when she wasn't alone, and she possessed the same questions as Jack were thinking. Words formed in Jack's head as the lyrics to accompany the sweet guitar that filled both of their heads. Jack opened his lips and sang softly into the empty spaces.

"Part of me has died, and won't return. And part of me wants to hide the part that's buried. Once, I knew how to talk to you. Once, but not anymore." Mattie's eyes filled with water as they blinked at the sound of Jacks sad voice. He gazed into his very soul in the mirror, looking into the distant corners of his mind. He pictured a paradise where all the ghosts and demons would go away. He so longed to feel a place of joy and love once again, but that was no longer possible. He was no longer the naive, foolish boy he was, but a troubled, emotionally tortured man. He felt that all the love in the world was swallowed by evil and corruptness, never to be spat out. He looked upon the face of death, upon the knowledge that the happy dagger would probably be his only escape. The next few lines of his song made him overcome with emotion as he whispered the lyrics with quiet intensity and passion.

"I hear the sirens call me home. Hear the sirens call me home," he sang as he envisioned a chorus of voices guiding him to peace of mind at last, his eyes watering. He begged the demons of his mind to depart, but they only stood back in his mind, laughing. He wished he could love Mattie again, but it wasn't the same. His foolish infatuation never was real, and never would be real. The visions had told him that such a love couldn't be, and he no longer felt love for her. He only felt...emptiness that couldn't be filled. Mattie hugged his arm tightly and placed her cheek against his shoulder. This was her paradise, right here with Jack, him feeling what she was feeling: a want of better days and happy dreams. But from hearing his words, she felt a prick on her heart, and realized that the last glimmer of hope for love was gone, leaving her in the darkness. She joined in his song, only the words had different meaning to her than to Jack; she sang with hopeless love to him words that begged him to give her a sign of his love, even though it was useless.

"I hear the sirens call me home. I hear the sirens call me home," she sang softly to him, tightening her arms around his, staring at their picture, shattered by the cursed mirror, displaying the mere fragments left in their relationship. He tugged his arm away from hers and turned away from the mirror. He began to look out the window into the bright orange sunset. Pink clouds darted the sky and gave the streets of London more color than they have seen for quite some time. It looked so pretty, yet it was cynical. Only now, when all hope and love was gone did London finally decide to beautify itself, sarcastically laughing in their despair.

"Part of me has vied to watch it burn. And the heart of me has tried, but look what it's become. Once, I knew how to look for you. Once, but that was before. Once, I would have lay down and died for you. Once, but not anymore. And I hear the sirens call me home," he sang while gazing into the setting sun and wishing to be swept away by its light into the distant horizon. Mattie once again placed her cheek upon his broad shoulder, seeking comfort in their similar, feelings.

"I hear the sirens call me home. Hear the sirens call me home," they sang together while swaying slightly to the music, feeling peace in their own world, but they were completely detached from each other's presence. No longer were they Mr. and Mrs. Driskall, they were only Jack and Mattie, two lost souls longing for comfort, but not a hand reached out in return. They were gone, dreaming of love and hope once more, but those days were gone, the past that was never to be relived again. The song faded into the distant as the sun set behind the hazy sky. Jack didn't look at Mattie, whose eyes were streaming with tears. She would keep trying, she would, even though she already knew her efforts were and always would be fruitless. She released herself from him, and walked down the stairs without looking back as Jack gazed at the skyline, a tear rolling down his cheek. The voices never left him, the voices of the dead, and they never would until he greeted them face to face. He plumped himself in the barbers chair and fell into the deepest sleep of his life.


	8. Anything for You

**Well, howdy-doo to you. Once again, thanks for all the reviews. Props to whoever can guess the two songs used in this chapter. If you do you will receive a free Goodie of the Day, which happens to be funnel cake.**

"Walking up the hill tonight," Mattie sang to herself as she tapped away on the piano in the living room, passing away her lonely time to herself. Jack was almost completely detached from her. There was no hope left for Mattie, yet she knew that deep in heart, she would think of him until the day she died. She would wait for him, wait to love, wait to see, wait for a hope which would never come. She continued to compose the simple melody as her head sank past her shoulders. "and you have closed your eyes, I wish I didn't have to make all those mistakes and be wise. Please try to be patient and know that I'm still learning. I'm sorry that you have to see the strength inside me burning. Where are you my angel now? Don't you see me crying? I know that you can do it all but you can't say I'm not trying. I'm on my knees in front of him but he doesn't seem to see me. With all his troubles on his mind, he's looking right through me. And I'm letting myself down by satisfying you. And I wish that you could see I have my troubles, too. Looking at you sleeping, another man I love. I'm sitting here weeping while the hours pass so slow. I know that in the morning, I have to let you go. And you'll be just a man like the one I used to know. Before these past days someone I don't recognize. This isn't all my fault. When will you realize? Looking at you leaving, I'm looking for a sign." Her freely moving fingers slowed down. The song changed, its sound becoming quieted and dreamy.

* * *

"I thought we had it all. I thought we'd go unscathed. I thought our love would border on infinity. I thought that we were free, that the world would disappear, leave ourselves wide open but we'd have no fear. But forever came and went, forever stumbled threw, forever had poor sense of time and made a mess of me and you. Forever had us fooled, we fell for it again, and now time is standing still forever. Lying next to you, but you're already gone, and too much has been said, and it can't be undone. It's so had to comprehend when ashes fade to dust. A touch of water and the iron turns to rust. And forever came and went. Forever stumbled through. Forever had poor sense of time and made a mess of me and you. Forever had us fooled, we fell for it again, and now time is standing still forever," she stopped playing abruptly as a tear streamed down her delicate cheek, grazing her skin and staining it with a never-ending sadness. She stumbled away from the piano, the only sound that accompanied her in the empty house.

"Don't be so down on yourself, love," Mrs. Lovett said from behind her, causing Mattie to jump with fright. No matter how many times Mrs. Lovett appeared to her, the abruptness of her visits always caught Mattie off guard. "I felt lonely too, wha' wit Mr. T always up there by 'imself," she said quietly.

"But Jack's never here, 'n I have no one besides Ethan," Mattie said hoarsely.

"I keep tellin' you, leave the selfish bastard, 'e is no good to you," said Mrs. Lovett in a scolding manner.

"Well, wha' am I suppose to do then?" she cried, placing her hands into her face. "I feel so completely alone."

"You've go' me, don't cha? Ain't I sumthin'?"

"Well, yes, but, I need...sumone I can touch, 'n kiss 'n hold 'n love," she sobbed. "Wha' the 'ell am I suppos' 't do?"

"I don't know love. If only you had sum other company. I always had my Toby, he'd always listin' to me."

"Who's Toby?" Mattie asked, wiping her tear stained hand on her dress, calming down some.

"Me little 'elper. Always a good worker 'round the shop, that Tobias Ragg," she said reminiscing. Mattie turned to her with a realization that slapped her in the face. Of course, Tobias! He was Mrs. Lovett's waiter! She never would have guessed it, but she realized the reason why he cursed the place, and visited them as soon as he saw them moving in. He knew these people, their strengths and weaknesses. Perhaps...he knew how to end this! Yes, yes, all of this suffering was because of them! she thought. And Tobias, he _knew _them, maybe, just maybe, he knew how to send them away. It was a long shot, but she felt so hopeless that she was willing to try anything. But where was he? She didn't know where he lived, if he even had a home. From their first encounter, she suspected him to be mentally insane, and those who were weak in the head usually had no home to go to. She ran over to retrieve her coat and ran towards the door.

"Oi, wherere you goin'?" Mrs. Lovett asked, slightly annoyed by Mattie's rude behavior.

"Sorry, Mrs. Lovett, but I have to go, it's important," Mattie said in a single breath and without another word, jogged through the streets of London, guided only by her blind faith and dumb luck.

* * *

Jack had just finished washing his hands clean and dosed the patient lying on the table with a shot of opium. The effect was immediate; the man lying there fluttered his eyes, and looked extremely pleased. He used to resent the idea of using opium, but he had no problem with it now, for he was beginning to tire of the screams of his patients. Still, he wanted them to feel pain, if only just a little. He wiped clean the scalpel with the fresh white cloth that hung over his chair, and raised it above the man's exposed flesh. Removing a tumor was tricky business, but he was always annoyed with the tiny scalpel, which made the initial cut and all ones after that slow to make, causing these useless surgeries to be prolonged. He was just about to place the tiny metal blade against the mans chest when he suddenly felt a small leap from his belt. The holster which held the largest of Sweeneys old razors seemed to make a small cry, making it known to Jack. It seemed to call to him, iUse me/i. It wanted to feel blood once more, even in an innocent way like surgery. Its tongue licked, craving the crimson taste. Jack slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out the silver blade, ready for the task at hand. It looked especially shiny today, glistening in the candlelight. He smiled, looking at its reflection. He reached over and wiped it clean with the white cloth and place the scalpel back on the tools table. Yes, its large blade would make this much faster. He wouldn't kill the man, oh no, he would only perform his civic duties with it. He placed the blade against the mans warm flesh, and cut into it. The patient didn't feel anything throughout the whole surgery; he was too busy giggling and looking at the ceiling above him changing from tangerine to purple to green.

* * *

Mattie felt exhausted. She'd been walking the streets of London for what seemed like hours now, and she was hopelessly and completely lost. She'd had asked countless people if they had ever heard or seen the likes of Tobias Ragg, but most people ignored her. She had received many scoffs from the passerby. She couldn't blame them: she must have appeared insane asking random strangers about a man that they'd never heard of. She wondered if she was actually insane, after all of the haunting and torment that she has received if her mind has been as decimated as her spirit. She continued to wander in a daze, thinking about her state of sanity, endlessly scanning the horizon for a face that she was beginning to lose hope in seeing.

She shrugged and turned down another street. She needed to find her bearings, which had become so upturned since she began her search. Once she crossed this dirty alley however, she immediately recognized a familiar boulevard: it was the one that lead directly to Jack's hospital. And lo and behold, there it was, as dismal and grey as the surrounding establishments, only much larger and upscale in appearance. She was about to turn around and head back home in the familiar route, but realized that Jack could perhaps help with her search. She turned back around and trotted off as quickly as she could to the hospital. She had been lead by Jack to the hospital a few occasions in case she ever needed him in an emergency, but she had never stepped foot inside of it. From her first appearances, it looked bleak and awfully pessimistic: apart from its dim lighting by scattered lanterns, the conditions didn't seem as clean as they could or should be. The reputation of the place suited it quite well, though not in a positive way. She approached the front desk and asked for Jack. The woman pointed down the hall to room 115, and she glided to it, where inside she found Jack, going over paperwork in his office. He looked at her in surprise, not expecting to ever see her there.

"What are you doing her, Mattie?" he asked, slightly surprised by her unexpected visit.

"I have to ask you a favor, Jack. Have you eva' spotted Tobias Ragg on your way home from work?" she inquired.

"Only once, why?"

"Well, if you eva' see him again, tell 'im to come to our house the next day six o' clock. It's urgent, so persistently tell 'im to come as long as it takes," she said quickly but clearly. She saw Jack look down for a second, thinking deeply, but Mattie wasn't quite sure what it was that was going through his mind. She then saw a sly, dark grin etch into his features, his eyes squinting with shadows covering them, giving him a look that was quite sinister. She was apprehensive, but she wasn't sure why he was feeling so devious.

"Of course, love, if I do ever see him, I'll invite him over and let you know of his visitation that very night. I guarantee it," he said stoically. Mattie scrunched her eyebrows in suspension, but nevertheless was satisfied that he would help her in her quest. She considered telling Jack that she hoped Tobias would answer her questions about the personal lives of Sweeney and Nellie, hoping that she would be able to receive insight on how to rid of them.

"Thanks dear. Well, I won't keep you from your work. I'll see you at evening." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and left the office and down the dim halls, passing another doctor and patient with a horribly broken leg. When she left the main lobby, she realized just how stuffy and musky the hospital was upon meeting her nostrils and the outside fresh air. She decided that it was not best to wander and become lost once again, so she simply commuted to the familiar route home, still keeping her eye keen for any sight of Mr. Ragg.

Jack finished packing his briefcase, aware of all of the details of his world as his plan and purpose became so clear. Inviting Tobias over would put everything in action. It would be the perfect opportunity to carry out Sweeney's mission that he could no longer accomplish. He grinned to his reflection in the mirror, hoping to see a look of genius and mastermind of thought, but instead a smile of sadness and disappointment. It was as if the two sides to him were fighting over control. Was it even himself? Had Sweeney completely possessed his heart and his mind, or was he still fighting the man Jack once was? He thought to himself, is this what I really want, or just what Sweeney wants? How would this affect my soul and my spirit? Jack told himself that asking Tobias questions might rid him of Sweeney's authoritative grip, but the Sweeney side of him said that this would be the perfect opportunity to extract his revenge. Was it Jack's revenge? Certainly not, but half of him felt like it was. He locked up his office and told himself that if he did come across Tobias, if ever, he would invite him over, and see which side of him was more powerful.

He exited the disparaging building with great enthusiasm and set off down the streets of London. The once familiar city seemed to grow in shadows as the days passed by him as his perception of the world, of humanity grew ever drearier. The more he saw the scum that inhabited this small hole in the earth, the more he was driven to horrid thoughts. Insanity was taking its grip, distorting his images of the once happy and opportunity filled world that Jack Driskall once knew. The sun ceased to shine, driven away by thick fog and threatening clouds that loomed overhead, glaring at this hell on earth. Jarring, high pitched violins screeched in his head in a strange key, accompanied by frantic piano, pounding away in hysteria. His footsteps provided a basic beat, washing out the sounds of the other men and women occupying the streets. Many took heedful glances at Jack, noticing the sinister look upon his face, fearing of horrid intentions inside of his heart. He shook his head, relaxing his face but not his heart, which pounded at the excited thoughts that raced in his head.

It was nearing dusk, and the faded light of the streetlamps were being ignited by torch-bearers. More and more prostitutes began to dot the streets, raising their skirts or pulling down the shoulders of their dresses. Some even reached out to touch his arm, asking "How'd you like a little jig, dear?" He simply scorned at them and pushed them aside, trying to make it out of this crowd of the wicked who came out in the safety of the night. He knew it was unsafe to be out here by himself at this time, where he was more susceptible to muggers and killers of the shadows. He quickened his pace, scanning the darkening streets for any street beggar that might resemble Tobias.

"Sir, look out!" Jack felt a feeble hand pull him back just as Jack realized he almost stepped in front of a speeding carriage, black as night and pulled by great thoroughbreds. He turned to thank his savior, when in sheer lucky coincidence; he saw that it was none other than Tobias Ragg. The stooped man looked surprised to see that it was Jack, if only he could see the hideous grin on Jack's face, which was covered by the darkness and Tobias' poor eyesight.

"Why, Mr. Driskall, intrestin' time to see you this evenin'," he said politely.

"The pleasure is all mine," he said calmly. "Sorry, but I don't know how I can possibly thank you," Jack said.

"There's no need to, Mr. Driskall," said Tobias.

"No, I insist. Why don't you come over for dinner at six 'o clock tomorrow evening. I'm sure you could use a nice juicy piece of meat." The words sounded polite enough, but his tone of voice was most unpleasant. However, at hearing the words "dinner" and "meat", Tobias, in all of his hunger, seemed to have let these details aside.

"Sure, sir. Be delighted. I know where you live."

"But before so, I have a favor to ask you."

"'Nythin' for you, sir," said Tobias.

"I have some questions...about the past that, I was hoping, you could help me answer," Jack said in a slight begging voice.

"I don't like talkin' bout such things," Tobias stammered.

"Trust me sir, I won't take long. Just meet me upstairs before dinner, and everything will fall in place for me." Tobias opened his mouth in a panicked protest, but Jack was faster and quickly cut him off. "I'll put in two quid for you if you do this favor for me," he added, silencing Tobias, who as the sound of money immediately forgot his concern.

"'Course Mr. Driskall, 'course. I'll be sure to meet you upstairs at when did you say?"

"Six o' clock, and not a minute later."

"I'll be there sir," and with that he scurried off into the shadows. The star's fortunes could not have been better for Jack that evening. He smiled to himself contently, and jogged back home, where the lights were bright and the fire was burning, a beacon of hope and light upon which he gladly entered. He informed Mattie about Tobias arriving the very next day, and quickly retreated into the barbers chair, where he sat, too excited to sleep, and waited for twenty-four hours to tick by.


	9. No Escape

**Part 9! I'm warning you in advance that while this isn't graphic, some material may make some squeam(not terribly though). I might be a little mean in this one too...MUAHAHAHAHA!! Goodie of the Day: raspberry cheesecake**

**Disclaimer: Don't own any characters which may or may not be in a certain movie called "Sweeney Todd: the Demon Barber of Fleet Street". Any semblence of Jack, Mattie, or Ethan to any real person's, living or dead, is purely coincidential.**

Jack must have at some point fallen asleep in the deep plush chair, but he couldn't recall if he had been awake for one hour or five. Either way, he could not contain his excitement for today. His own mind anticipated Tobias to answer questions, hoping that some knowledge might force Sweeney to stop tormenting him. But his plagued mind, a host to the parasite that is Sweeney thoughts was also awaiting Tobias, but for far more sinister purposes. When such sharing of one body first occurred, Jack wondered for a while if he was suffering from multiple personality disorder. But it couldn't be, the dreams were too real, the thoughts too foreign, the apparitions too vivid to be falsities of his mind. Still, when one shares his mind with another, it's only a matter of time before insanity takes its grip upon your throat.

* * *

Jack considered whether or not to go to work today. All he wanted to do was sit in that chair, or pace, and wait until six o' clock came upon him. On the other hand, part of him told him that work would clear his mind, and perhaps the real Jack would shine through. He concluded that if he stayed, not only would he be in a fit of violent temptations throughout the whole day, but that the kind, naive Jack would have no chance of showing up. He descended the stairs, not bothering to change out of yesterday's clothes, for he was too distraught to think of such trivial matters. Sweeney called his mind to his side in a rage of desperation, but Jack's mind commanded his body to proceed out the door and down the foggy cobblestones of Fleet Street. He didn't bother to look back, nor did he want to for fear that his body would turn around. Sweeney's voice quieted, but his cloaked presence always lingered, hinting, suggesting what course his choices in life should take. Sweeney was always there, not as completely as when Jack was in the house, but a hint of him never left Jack's side or his mind. He shook his head, hoping to take the whispers out of his head as he proceeded to an otherwise ordinary day.

Mattie felt a spring of life upon herself that she had never previously felt before. She had the need to clean, fully scrub and sweep every inch of her and the house. The idea of someone other than Ethan coming over made her anxious, even if it was only Mr. Ragg. Damn! thought Mattie, realizing that she forgot to tell Ethan that she couldn't see him today. She felt awfully guilty, and a tad apprehensive. Ethan's moods seemed to be changing as Mattie started seeing him less and less. Each time they accompanied each other, he often seemed annoyed, or better put, agitated. He said he loved her, missed her terribly. She saw how upset her absences made him, but those were pre-planned. She didn't want to know how he might react upon Mattie not showing up without word beforehand. She sighed, and attempted to convince herself that he would understand.

Mrs. Lovett was leaning against the front wall staring into the spaces of the room, Mattie fully aware of her presence. Mrs. Lovett didn't say anything, but kept a reminiscing face, memories coming back to her. The idea that she could see Tobias once again after all of these years might finally put her spirit at peace, which is what Mattie secretly wanted. She had warned Nellie though, that she shouldn't make herself known, or Tobias might literally have a heart attack and die. This saddened Mrs. Lovett, but it was a comfort to know that she would be able to see him once again, even if he couldn't see her. She so longed to make her presence known to him, but from what Mattie had said, he was a very fearful man know, always looking behind him with another set of eyes.

"Are you listening to me?" Mattie said. Mrs. Lovett snapped back into attention, not noticing that Mattie was speaking to her.

"Sorry, love, my mind's elsewhere, wha' did you say?"

"I said, do you eva' talk to Mr. Todd 'nymore?" Mattie asked. Mrs. Lovett placed a cheerless look upon her face, and this told Mattie everything she needed to know.

"We're not allowed to see each otha'. 'e occupies upstairs, I'm here 'n in the bake house," she said quietly. "I wish I could though. I never forget about 'im."

"Have you forgivin' 'im, for...you know?" Mrs. Lovett's face hardened for a second, but not for long; a melancholy look resumed upon her face, and she looked down at the ground.

"I'll always love 'im, but I'll never forgive 'im. Not for sumthin' like that," she said coldly. She didn't say anything after that; she didn't need to. Mattie looked at her sad face, not sure what to do or say, so instead she just continued to sweep. Not another word was spoken between them for several minutes, until finally Mrs. Lovett departed, leaving Mattie once more alone, with only a broom for company.

* * *

Twilight was dimming as a cold breeze blew through the streets, chilling the air with a cold that would make any man shiver in his boots. The new moon was to be out tonight, erasing the familiar glow that usually lightened the streets of London. A lunatic was yelling in the streets as rats scurried about, afraid of the vermin. Thick black smoke was emitting from many chimneys, desperate men and women seeking warm in the cold of the night. The black smoke blotted out the dim stars in the night sky, and gave the familiar dome overhead a sinister feel, like a great cloud hovering, ready to pour all hell upon the earth. From the smell of the dirty smoke and the glows of the lanterns from the city, one might have the impression that the city itself was in flames. In fact, that's what the lunatic was screaming about. He, surrounded by anonymity, was singing exasperatedly to all things that moved, whether it was a dog, a man, or blowing cloth in the wind.

"City on fire! Rats in the grass and the lunatics yelling in the streets! It's the end of the world! Yes, city on fire! Hunchbacks dancing! Stirrings in the ground and the whirring of giant wings! Watch out! Look! Blotting out the moonlight, thick black rain falling on the city on fire! City on fire! There, look, crawling on the chimneys, great black crows screeching at the city on fire!" he screeched, twitching about in a fit of madness. A great whistle from a nearby factory caused him to cry out in despair as he ran down the streets screaming of his mind's torments. The outside was frightening to be in during the dark of the night, where evil will find you at every corner and come upon you unexpectedly.

Inside, however, we find such cozy gatherings as no one could render. Jack had returned home fifteen minutes earlier than usual in anticipation for Tobias' arrival. On his way home, he was worrying over what food would be served and what he should ask. Not that that was a problem, however, as Mattie had taken care of that throughout the course of the day. The comforting, warm smell of a thick beef stew brewed, with the fresh scent of baked bread and cookies. The fire was lit, emitting a warm and comfortable glow that spread throughout the whole downstairs. The room was clean and inviting, and put one's mind at ease. All things that would cause a mess or appear out of order were inconspicuously hiding behind cupboards or inside drawers. Jack opened the door, bringing in the chill breeze and the stink of dirty chimneys inside the otherwise spotless room. From the moment he stepped in, Sweeney graciously took his usual place inside of his mind, trying to overpower Jack's weak spirit. It wasn't difficult to do so anymore, and Jack's previous ambiguities left him, leaving only revenge's sweet lips to meet his. He greeted Mattie half-heartedly and began to proceed up the stairs to be ready to polish off Tobias.

"Don't cha wanna be down 'ere for when Mr. Ragg comes?" Mattie asked him. Jack had not told Mattie of the preplanned detour that he instructed for Mr. Ragg, and saw no need to tell her. Still, he thought that she would wonder where he was, but then remembered that the glass was awfully thick; unless one looked outside, one could not hear another ascending the staircase. He wanted to figure out a way to distract her, but his mind was much too focused on the outcome to think of a plan. So instead of concocting a means to keep her busy, he simply crawled up the stairs without another word to her, going under into the darkest place that humanity can sink to.

Mattie had no comprehension of his plans, but his behavior wasn't unusual for him. Mattie looked at the clock. It read 5:50. Mattie quickly scurried to make tea in the last few minutes before the arrival of her guest. She had spent most of the day thinking about all of the different questions that she could ask Tobias, but none of them seemed right. After over an hour of pondering, she concluded that the questions would probably come out better when she was actually speaking to him. She poured the hot water into its kettle and placed it upon the gas stove. She turned to look at the house and decided that the inviting room would be pleasant enough for Mr. Ragg to settle his mind. She settled in her chair for a few minutes, waiting for the tea to be ready.

A sudden and demanding pound forced itself upon the door. Mattie turned with a little surprise. It was most likely Mr. Ragg, rudely early for company, but Mattie couldn't blame a beggar for not knowing courteous customs. She glided towards the door and smiled pleasantly and warmly, the fire glowing against her skin, giving her a slight angelic appearance. Upon opening the door, she could see the dark outline of a tall man, who was definitely not Tobias. The cold wind whipped though the open doors, and the comfort of the inside was obliterated by the dark of the night. The man's face came into the light, revealing his face. It was Ethan.

"You weren't at my home as is customary," he said coldly. He could tell he was angry by her forgetfulness, but something in his stance and in his tone told her that something wasn't right. Mattie should've informed him that she couldn't see him today.

"I'm sorry, but sumthin' came up," she said calmly, hoping that keeping herself at ease would put him in an easy state as well. It didn't.

"What? What was so important tha' you couldn't even say 'ello today?" he interjected. He advanced a step towards her, and she stepped back into the house. His anger radiated off of his face, trying to understand why she didn't reach out to him today.

"Ethan, I can't do this, not now. There's someone comin' right now, 'n I don't have time for this," she said. She couldn't let Ethan hear them arguing.

"I'm not leavin' til you tell me wha's so damn important! Why didn' you warm me tha' I couldn' even look at you today? Are you keepin' secrets from me?! Is there sumthin' you need to hide from me? Huh?!" He yelled. Mattie kept attempting to speak, but he continually interrupted her pleas. She began to cry from under all of the stress at the moment. Her secret couldn't be contained inside of herself anymore; she neither had the willpower nor the want to keep it inside of her.

"Ethan, I'm married!" she shouted over him. He was silent for a moment, his face unbelieving, as if what she had just said was too unfathomable of a statement for him to understand. His face began to mold, first starting with sadness, then anger, and finally, something sinister that made her bones quiver. The house became very cold all of a sudden. He stepped close to her, and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"I miss you, you know," he said, grabbing her tight and began kissing her on the neck. "It gets awful lonely without you." At that moment, she feared the worst. Ethan's impatience with her was at its end. She felt so ashamed, so stupid. How could she not see that this would happen? Why didn't she listen to Mrs. Lovett?  
"Stay wit' Jack, love. That Ethan'll be the death of you." Ethan continued to kiss her and squeeze her close, too close for comfort. His hands felt all over her, touching her in ways she hoped never to be touched by any man other than Jack. She didn't want to believe that this was happening, but she knew it was inevitable. He was kissing her all over, feeling every inch of her exposed flesh.

"I'm not a patient man, you know," he said, dragging her to the couch in the living room. He covered her mouth, preventing sound from escaping from her lips.

"Make any sound, and it'll be the last thing you ever hear," he said, tossing her onto the couch roughly. He climbed on top of her, kissing her in the same manner he'd always kissed her, only now she realized just how rough and awful the feeling was when you weren't agreeing with the kisser. She merely sobbed, unable to do anything but wait for the inevitable to happen. "Believe me when I say I love you," he said gruffly, and without the least bit of sympathy. Mattie was hopeless, and she continued to cry as he pulled her down, crushing her under his weight. She felt like a bird having its wing being twisted. His shallow, filthy, and controlling words whispered menacingly in her ear, hardly making a sound. She heard a whistle, puttering slightly, then screaming as the tea poured forth a barrage of steam, drowning out her screams and tears.

At that moment, a certain Mr. Tobias Ragg came into the scene, ascending the stairs cautiously, absorbing awful memories of the past, hearing the sound of the tea kettle, which he took no notice to. When he reached the top, he had every sense in his body order him to leave immediately. He felt the strong presence of evil all around him. But then he remembered the promise of good food and warm drink. Perhaps that was the tea they will be serving that's hissing downstairs. Hesitantly, he opened the door to the barber shop, and was greeted by a smiling Jack Driskall, with one open razor in his right hand, hidden behind his great back.

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**Cliffhanger! Hahaha! I'm so evil. See you for the 10th and final chapter.**

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	10. When Love is Gone

**Ah, part 10. I'm sorry that we have to say goodbye(though I might add an epilogue, I don't know)/but you should know the reason why/this story's dead and done/and now I'll celebrate by soaking up some sun. Pretty good little poetry, eh? /...ok, so I can't rhyme well. So, the very last Goodie of the Day is...Banana split with the works! Enjoy chapter 10, we've been waiting for you...MUAHAHAHA!!(warning, this chapter contains images that may disturb some. Ask your parents before proceeding...not that I trust you to do so...)**

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"Ah, Mr. Ragg, do come in. I've been expecting you," Jack said, gesturing for Tobias to enter. He had lit the normally dark atmosphere with a multitude of candles, casting warm light but creepy shadows. Mr. Ragg was hesitant to enter, and stood back for a few moments.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Driskall, but dis room brings back bad memories. I might take a while," he said, stooping over, cringing back from the ambiance of the room. He had many fears of the whole establishment, and Jack sensed it, feared it. If he lost Tobias' trust, then there would be no hope left. Jack needed answers; he struggled to overcome the looming voice of Sweeney. _Offer our most noble guest nourishment._

"Are you sure you wouldn't want to come in, my Mattie most graciously left cookies for you to indulge on." At the mention of food, his inhibitions lightened. He hadn't been able to find food for two days, and he would gladly accept anything remotely edible. He looked around the room. The candles made everything seem pleasant enough, and so was Jack's face. However, since Tobias' eyesight was fairly poor, he couldn't see the subliminal trace of sinister expression that hid just under the lines of Jack's smile. The smell of freshly backed treats muted the haunting auora of the room.

"Well, perhaps a little treat wouldn' hurt." He slowly stepped inside, looking around for signs of suspicion, but couldn't see any. The only thing remotely frightening was the barber's chair. The mere sight of it gave Tobias a chill, thinking of all the unspeakable horrors that must have occurred there. Seated upon a small table was a plate of cookies, filling the room with the wonderful smell of baked dough and chocolate chunks. His hunger overtook him, and he made a mad dash for the cookies, devouring them as quickly as he saw them. Jack watched him, grinning at the sight, for he knew that he had Tobias' trust, which was most critical. The razor had been held behind his back the entire time, waiting for the perfect moment for it to descend upon the old man's sagging flesh. Jack held it tight, straining himself to hold it back, but he struggled against a force far more determined than he was. Tobias' spirits seemed to be lifted as he wiped his mouth of the crumbs with his arm.

"So, Mr. Driskall, wha' was it you wanted to talk to me about?" he said with a much more relaxed smile. Jack returned with a cynical smile.

"I was hoping you could tell me about how to satisfy the ghost of Sweeney Todd," he said seriously. "His presence lingers her, haunting me, wanting me. There must be something you know that he wanted before he died. Please I must know!" he cried, suddenly overcome with fear; he knew that his true spirit was growing weaker. _Shut up you pathetic fool_ Sweeney snapped. Jack's face and voice suddenly became monotone once more. "I don't know what he wants. Tell me everything you know about him," he said, watching the happiness fall off of his Tobias' face as the mention of Sweeney. His hands began to twitch, uneasiness creeping up his spine.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know 'ow to 'elp you wit that," he said nervously. "Sweeney only wanted death, and he twas a very quiet man. I nev'r really talked to 'im."

"When was the last time you saw him before he died?" Jack said, ignoring his trembles. Even if he attempted to escape, he was too slow to run away. He was Sweeney's, and Sweeney wanted to savor every moment of it. He wasn't seen by Tobias, but Jack saw his sly figure in the mirror instead of his own face. His mouth whispered, _Do it_.  
"Tha-tha last time?" he said, shifting his eyes around the room. He noticed that Jack appeared notice someone else, as if he saw another man that Tobias couldn't see, but he could see though that no one else occupied the room. "In the bake house, wit dis dead woman. I-I killed 'im," he stuttered quietly, not daring to look into Jack's eyes. Even though his vision was poor, he could still sense the menacing vibe that radiated out of Jack and pulsated throughout the room. The taste of the cookies permanently left his mouth.

"Well, then it's quite clear how to end this...haunting," he growled. Jack's mind cried, but Sweeney's slapped it away, pushing his thoughts to the back of Jack's skull. He stood up, the razor still behind his back, as he slowly paced towards Tobias, whose eyes were full of fear, unsure of what was about to happen next. He backed away from Jack, wanting to run, except that he was blocking the door. He felt the footrest of the barber's chair against the back of his calves, and he fell back into the blood-stained plush.

"Wha-wha's that?" he stammered, but he already knew the answer to that question. Jack slowly pulled the razor from behind his back, revealing its glisten in the bright candlelight. He squinted his eyes, accentuating the dark circles under them. At that moment, Sweeney made the decision to make himself known to Tobias, causing his eyes to widen beyond measure. Tobias couldnt scream as the monster stood by Jack's side, both of them giving equally bloodthirsty looks in their dead black eyes.

"We need to give dear Sweeney here what he desires," Jack said, Sweeney smirking beside him. He raised the razor high above his head, and suddenly snapped out of the experience. _What the hell am I doing?_ He felt very weak all of a sudden, and nearly collapsed. Tobias was frightened but now incredibly confused, and still unable to speak.

"I can't, I can't kill like you Sweeney! What will Mattie think?!" this sudden flash back to reality surprised everyone, including Sweeney. But Sweeney was quick and did not like his plans to go undone.

"Then don't kill _like_ me, kill _better_ than me." Jack felt like a great wind blew through his body, and an exploding pain seared through his head. Jack's soul screamed, attacked by a force it was unable to overcome. Sweeney enveloped him, felt him, _was_ him, and nothing Jack could do would save himself. Jack was shoved away, still existing, but forced farther away from the outside than ever before. His eyes became bottomless, and no amount of love could fill the space. In an instant, he brought the razor down upon Tobias' throat. Blood spurted from his skin out of the gaping line, his cut arteries pouring forth a waterfall of rubies that rain down, staining the floor with the fresh blood to accompany the small amounts of blood left on the floor. But he didn't stop there. He slashed at him multiple times in the face. In his fervor of tormented madness, he tore apart at Tobias' bedraggled shirt, exposing his gooseflesh chest. He forced the razor into his exposed stomach, and across his chest, causing more blood to spill. The crimson streaks stained his face and his hair, making the ends stick together. His shirt was completely soaked in the scarlet mess, as was the razor. Tobias had long been dead, but he continued to slice at his flesh anyway, his vehemence of madness, hate in his eyes that not even he could express. After several minutes, he stopped to gaze upon Tobias, whose mutilated body had been slashed apart. The room was covered with the stench of flesh, blood, and dirt, an awful sight to behold that even the man with the world's strongest stomach would be sick at the ghastly sight. He dropped the razor on the floor, in pure shock that he could do such a grisly act.

"Press the lever," Sweeney said. Jack eyed the blood-soaked lever beside the chair. He'd always looked at it, but never dared to press it. Once he did, the way of Sweeney's dastardly deeds became clear; the chair tipped back, sliding Tobias' mutilated corpse through a trap door falling into the glowing abyss below, looking like the door to hell from the fire of the bake oven that burned brightly. Jack was in shock by what he had just done. The lowest point of humanity, which he always disgusted and feared was part of him, stained him with a sin that could never be washed away.

"You'd better check on your sweet Mattie right now, make sure she isn't conducting some...unusual business." And with that, Sweeney departed from him, leaving alone with his thoughts and his mess. Jack never felt more defeated in his life; Sweeney harnessed all of his emotion, values, and thoughts, and poisoned them with his wicked ways. Jack lost, he couldn't save himself, he couldn't save Tobias. His spirit was in ruin, left to choose whatever fate he had. Jack, in a way, died, and all that was left was hatred and chaos. He picked up the razor once again and ran down the stairs. The sound of a frustrated and screaming tea pot was heard from the distance. Steam filled the kitchen, clouding his eyesight. He swept the pot off of the stove and switched off the stove, but the water was by now so hot that nothing could stop its screeching. He stepped through to the living room, clearing away the blinding steam. He felt hot, and thirsted for more blood. When he stepped through the steam, and his heart sunk below his knees upon the sight he encountered.

There was his wife and that vile creature Ethan, violating her on their couch. Hate filled his heart of stone, and Jack's spirit screamed in the back of his mind as it was obliterated permanently. He was no longer Jack Driskall, but a monster incapable of love or mercy. He screamed as he attacked Ethan, the force of the razor upon his neck nearly decapitating Ethan. The body rolled off of Mattie, screaming for salvation. She ran downstairs into the bake house as Jack exerted an all powerful force upon Ethan that was unprecedented for even Sweeney. He lashed until he couldn't lash anymore. When it was done, finished, and he felt drained. He heard a scream from below, and walked into the belly of the beast, where he knew that he would find Mattie.

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Mattie ran away from Jack, unable to comprehend all that occurred tonight. She descended into the fiery pit of the bake house screaming and barely able to run from crying. The wide open spaced smelt strange. She turned numbly towards the landing sight of the trap door where the stench came from, and came upon the most unfathomable sight she had ever seen. There lying on the floor was Tobias, his shredded body lying in a heap, his crushed skull barely attached to his body, ripped from both Jack and the force of the fall. Blood drenched the area. Mattie gave a throaty cry that shook the very foundation of the house, waking all of the ghosts who resided upon these walls. The shadows heard her and looked upon her with pity. She ran and hid behind the warm oven, out of sight. She heard the eminent, rhythmic sound of Jack's footsteps, echoing against the dry cobblestone, drips of blood from his razor and clothes accompanying him. She could see him, but he couldn't see her, and what she saw brought all of her nightmares to reality. Jack was covered with a red skin of blood, as thick as the hair on his head. She gave a small cry, unable to help herself. Jack's eyes immediately darted towards the oven. Mattie exposed herself, seeing that any further attempt to hide would be in vain. Mascara was streaming down her cheek like black tears of desperation.

"J-Jack, I-I-I,"

"You've been with that Ethan the whole time haven't you?"

"Jack, you saved my life. But what can I think 'o you now?!" she cried full of hopelessness. "Jack, I love you, but how am I to look at you now?!"

"That's a poor answer to adultery, Miss Crawford," he said with a voice filled with hate. Mattie cringed at this statement. Jack was gone, swallowed by demons far greater than his strength. Unbelievably, a steady beat rose out of the room, a slight drum and piano accompaniment. She could barely sing the words that came out of her mouth next. Jack stood still looking at her as she stepped towards him.

"Like a prima ballerina, I tiptoe around you constantly. I hear the water running; will it wash your tears or leak through the ceiling? Make my way up the wooden staircase; I hope to God you've had a good day. When you're furious, when you start to freeze, when you can't be touched, I feel everything. And when you despair, when you cannot breathe, when you wouldn't dare, I feel everything. When you're in ecstasy, but you're not with me, I feel everything." She looked at him with bloodshot eyes, looking into pits that didn't want a drop of love to fall into them. "On a tightrope, on a wire, I'll attempt to jump through your ring of fire. I've waited all the while for a glimpse of something to bring us higher. One little foot in front of the other, don't you know I'm afraid of the other? When you're furious, when you start to freeze, when you can't be touched, I feel everything. And when you despair, when you cannot breathe, when you wouldn't dare, I feel everything. When you're in ecstasy, but you're not with me, I feel everything." Mattie walked up to him and held onto his hand that didn't hold a razor, feeling the sticky crimson goo that stuck their hands together. Jack didn't move, but continued to stare at her with hateful eyes.

"There's a fine line between love and hurting and knowing when to walk away. Like a prima ballerina, I tiptoe around you constantly. When you're furious, when you start to freeze, when you can't be touched, I feel everything. And when you despair, when you cannot breathe, when you wouldn't dare, I feel everything. When you're in ecstasy, but you're not with me, I feel everything," she sang with the utmost despair that no heart should ever bear to hold. She rested her forehead on his chest and placed her hand over his heart. "When you can't be touched, when you can't be loved, when you fall apart, when you have no heart, I feel everything," she concluded, and broke down into a stream of tears and cries that resounded from her lips with sheer agony. She looked up at his unloving, unfeeling eyes. "Jack, I love you. I nev'r wanted to harm you." Jack squinted his penetrating eyes into hers.

"Jack's dead, Mattie. That life is gone, and the world has gone black before my eyes," he growled. Mattie backed away from him, frightened by what he had become. She screamed as he saw what he was about to do next. He gritted his teeth and bared his dark and vengeful demon upon her skin, carving her deeply in her throat. Mattie tried to speak, but all that came out was horrid grogging sounds of her, choking on her own blood. She collapsed into Jack's arms, more like cranes than means of comfort. She took one last look at all that she'd lived for, cared for, died for. And then blackness came over her eyes, and she was no more. Jack lifted her body, not feeling anything but madness and a demand for blood and death to all the vermin of the world. He tossed Mattie's limp body to the ground mercilessly. Jack smirked and looked at his reflection of himself in the shine of the razor.

"Driskall is dead. Now, the name is Jack...the Ripper, my pet." He walked towards the stairs of bake house towards the main room. He'd have to get rid of Ethan upstairs. He looked at Tobias and Mattie's remains, smirked, and slammed the steel door. Jack the Ripper gave up the ghosts forever.


End file.
